Rose Rouge
by xSweet Allure
Summary: Red Rose Christine feels as though part of herself is missing, and decides to pay a visit to the old opera house. Will she find an old love there? A FLUFF FILLED EC PHIC! COMPLETE!
1. Return to the Opera House

**Disclaimer**: I have not, nor ever will, own _The Phantom of the Opera_ in both the book, and the many versions of its movies. My heart wishes to unleash the creativity of my soul, and express the love that I feel for Erik (the Phantom) and Christine. With that said, this story will be an E/C pairing, and if you do not approve, it is only a suggestion that you do not read any further than this disclaimer.

Red Rose

Chapter I: Return to the Opera House

The cellar was a dark place. The cellar was a _lonely_ place. How could one possibly stay in such a dreadful, unkind subterrane for more than a moment? After a while, I'd assume the person would be wishing to see nothing more than the glorious light of day. But then, there are those who want nothing more than to hide from it. There are those…who wish to hide from the light.

Erik had once allowed such a magnificent light to enter his life, although not from that of day. Her name was Christine Daae; at least that's what he preferred to call her, for now she had married. Just the thought of that foolish viscount, touching his beautiful maiden, even _looking_ at her, filled his heart with pain of the most horrible kind.

Erik had molded Christine, taken her under his wing and taught her all he knew. He was her angel of music. What good was that now? She had denied her angel, she had betrayed him. The memory burned strongly in the phantom's mind. They were rowing away, into the mist, leaving him there in his solitude, a deeply saddened look upon his beastly face. To make such a memory worse, Erik remembered the lasting sensation of Christine's petal-soft lips against his own, the only cruel image that kept him living. It was such a passionate kiss, and if he had not attempted to kill Raoul with his magical lasso, the Opera Ghost only wondered if she still would've kissed him. Would she still have blessed his lips with her touch, even without his mask on? Yes, the white mask which obscured the right side of his face, the only thing that allowed a monster to masquerade as a man. Never again would Erik allow himself to fall victim to her. He was her angel of music no longer.

……

Christine embraced the white, silk pillow in her arms. She rested her chin down atop it and inhaled the masculine scent of her lover. The former mademoiselle could hardly believe her luck. Married to her childhood sweetheart, and a countess no less. It was like a sweet dream, which she only dared to wake up from.

Although, as she lay in bed, Raoul sleeping soundly beside her, a strong arm wrapped gently around her waist, Christine couldn't help but feel a sense of loss. The emptiness that filled a part of her heart was slowly growing inside her. Unlike the many times before, Christine no longer heard the innocent, pure voice of her male friend. She missed the soothing melody of that music box, which she often heard play inside the lair of the phantom. She remembered it quite clearly. A monkey was dressed in Persian robes and in his hands he held a pair of cymbals. Inside, was the velvet lining in which she thought beautiful. But the thing she missed most of all was the tune that it played, the tune that, once again, reminded her of _him. _Christine often spoke of it to Raoul. He never really understood its importance to her, and she preferred to keep it that way.

Christine also missed Madame Giry, for she thought of her as a mother. She missed Meg, the chorus girls, oh; the young child missed so much! Perhaps she would use these many excuses to sneak her way back into the old home. What did she have to hide? Besides, she did promise dear Meg that she would visit, and I'm sure Raoul would have no problem in seeing the two managers again, unless, that is, O.G. scared them away.

Adjusting her position in bed, the girl closed her eyes and filled her head with pleasant pictures of the night.

"Oh Raoul, we must go!" Christine's voice pleaded, the next morning.

"My darling, you would have to be mad to journey back there. Have you so quickly forgotten our _adventures_ at the Opera House? It's not wise, Christine!" He grasped her tightly with both arms, softly clutching her flesh. She had spoke of this so suddenly, an old jealously sprung through the Victome de Chagny. He knew the true reason why she wished to return.

She did not fight to get out of his hold. "Please, just to see my friends…Meg, the others…" Her eyes became glassy with unshed tears. The usually flushed skin that ran so perfectly over her petite body was now pale. "In the name of our love, do let me go there!"

Raoul was dumfounded by her heart-felt plea. He made no attempt to yell at her, tell her she was not right in the head, for he was a man in love. The nobleman loosened the grip on his wife. Without so much as a word, he gazed down at his feet and nodded slowly.

She was ecstatic. "Thank you, my loving husband!" Throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Mme. Chagny was about to scurry from the elaborate kitchen, to prepare for the tedious journey to the Opera, when a voice stopped her.

"I shall stay by your side at all times, agreed?" He spoke rather coolly that it made Christine blink several times in surprise.

"I wouldn't have it any other way!" She replied gaily, blowing him a playful kiss and proceeding to the bedroom.

Only until she was out of sight, did Raoul murmur under his breath, "The Angel of music has gotten himself some visitors… Happy day!"

In the privacy of her bedroom, Christine undressed behind a curtain, making sure no one was to see her, for she was far too shy when it came to such things. She placed her bathrobe on the bed and grabbed one of the elegant gowns that Raoul had given to her in celebration of them becoming husband and wife. Indeed, he had spoiled her during these past couple of months. Not that she was one to complain. He was so romantic towards her, a different kind of romantic from-oh, now why was she thinking of _him_ again? Anyway, Christine chose not to wear a corset for it was extremely uncomfortable and her well-shaped body did not at all need it. She threw on some stockings, slipped into some comfortable shoes and applied the natural look of makeup on her angel-like face.

"This is exciting!" Daae smiled to herself. Quickly, she combed her wonderful brown waterfall of hair and packed herself a suitcase. While packing she discovered a withered rose within it. She had not remembered placing it there, and immediately her mind came to the conclusion that her angel scent by father had placed it there. He must've arrived in the dressing room to give her one final rose before she left to live with the viscount. Finding the singer was not there, he carefully put it in the suitcase. Christine smiled sadly to herself and stroked the petals with tenderness. The pity had yet to leave her.

"Christine, are you ready?"

Her head turned in the direction of her name. "Wait for me, Raoul!" And dropping the rose on the bed, she hurried out the door, the suitcase almost forgotten.

………..

Okay, now it's a finished chapter! Yay for me! I don't know how you guys write these 10 page chapters! I admire you! And no, I am not a Raoul fan; for I love Erik! (I would guess this fan fiction is based mostly from the ALW movie) Remember to review! And be nice, it's my first POTO story! I know nothing really happened yet, but it will get better, I promise!


	2. Beyond the Door's Entrance

**A/N**: Hi guys! I just wanted to say how happy you made me. I never thought I would get all those reviews! I'm kind of sick at the moment, and I feel a little crummy. I think your reviews are just the medicine to make me feel better. So, remember, don't forget to comment!

**Disclaimer: **I've written so many of these in the past, I'm sick of it. I don't own _Phantom of the Opera_, yada yada yada. There! Enjoy the story!

  
Red Rose

Chapter II: Beyond the Door's Entrance

"Miss. Daae, is that you?"

Richard Firmin laughed whole-heartedly, at the delightful sight of Christine and Roaul standing before him.

"It's Chagny now, Monsieur," she corrected politely, glancing down at the fingers entwined with her old little playfellow. A small smile spread across those full red lips.

"Is it now? Hear that, Andre? Christine has married the M. le Victome de Chagny!" He held out his hand warmly, welcoming them further into the Opera Populaire. Andre however, stood firmly at the entrance, the complexion gone from his skin.

"Yes, that's wonderful to hear, but Firmin-" The manager began to feel slightly uncomfortable with the sudden show in company. He balled his fists to his side. White knuckles were poorly hidden under his lifeless patches of flesh.

"How is business, gentlemen?" Roaul asked, while removing his gloves and sticking them into his coat pocket. Since he was here, he might was well start up a friendly conversation.

"Ummm, Firmin-"

"Wonderful, just wonderful! The Opera has been doing splendidly. No more chaos, no more Opera Ghost-"

"FIRMIN!" Moncharmin did not like to be ignored.

"My god, what is it?" His voice rose, shooting an annoyed glance straight to his partner's face.

"We have a note"

"Another one?" Richard reached the man's side within seconds. The letter at once attracted his attention, not only because it was addressed in that same, familiar red ink, but because the handwriting was still recognized as that same clumsy, childish handwriting, which still held a look of elegance. At once, Firmin Richard tried to hide the paper behind his back, but Roaul's beautiful blue eyes were quick in catching it.

"Sir, you don't mean to tell me that-that _thing_ is still living beneath this very place?" The viscount could feel his pounding heart beating strongly in his chest. "Isn't it you two who wished to track the beast down?" He said with a trembling voice of anger.

"Well, we sort of pitied the man-"

"Man? My good friend, that thing is no man! He is a murderer! It is too late for pity!

"Chagny! He has changed! You have not been here, he has truly changed!" Andre spoke up.

"Changed? You call such a demon, changed?" Those innocent eyes had now burned with a raging fire.

"Monsieur, may I please read the letter?" Christine shyly exclaimed, meeting Roaul at his side.

"Of course, my beautiful lady. We see no harm in it. After all, the Opera Ghost is no longer a threat." Andre and Firmin replied darkly, starring coldly at her husband.

"You're all mad! You must be on medication!"

But Christine ignored the bickering of the three men, and allowed her eyes to curiously wonder the page.

'My Dear Managers,

Such as before, I have written this letter to remind you, that I will no longer be needing my regularly reserved seat in Box 5. However, shall I attend the performances or not, I still ask that my salary be paid. On another note, I must tell you that rehearsals have improved greatly. I am pleased with the chorus, and I do wish their career to progress. I suspect with the absence of our toad, and by toad I mean Mme. Carlotta, that the cast has indeed been given back the use of their ears. Yet, something lacks in your opera. Perhaps, it is _talent_ that you need.

'Kind Regards,

O.G.'

She shot her head up and looked at Roaul. "No longer in need of Box 5? How can that be? He loves music! It's his life!"

"I believe he's lost his passion for it. We often saw him gazing in upon us. For awhile, he lived all about Paris, hiding I presume. At the moment you left, Ms. Daae, he seemed rather soulless. The 'evil' as we thought he had, seemed to have drained from him. And so, we invited him back into the Opera House. He thanked us, yes, but showed no sign of emotion while doing so. Before making whatever journey he makes down to the cellar, he gave us his word that he would not be the one starting trouble. We believed him, since he looked exhausted from his constant travel, and his eyes showed complete sadness. But, we still pay him his francs. He has to make himself a living, you know. As for his music, I don't think he's played since your leave, my lady. He lives in the cellar for shelter, and nothing more!" Andre described, directing it more at the noblemen than at his wife.

"Are you suggesting that the reason why that _gargoyle_ is allowed to live here is because he misses Christine?"

"You're twisting my words around! That's not what I said at all!"

"Frankly sir, I don't think you two have the sense to own an opera!" He yelled, throwing his arms in the air.

"ROAUL! Your insults do not help!" The countess snapped, very much unlike her. She shoved the letter into Andre's chest and continued to remain heated. "First of all, he is not an 'it' or a 'thing' her is a man, and you, being so highly respected should treat him as such! What gives you the right to tell these men how their theater is to be run? I am not happy with your behavior, Roaul!"

"Christine!"

She silenced him with her hand. "I'm searching for Meg! It would be wise not to follow me, Victome de Chagny!" With that, she stomped off towards the dressing rooms. Why _had_ she gotten so upset? Was she feeling all right? The men didn't exactly miss her presence, for as soon as she left, all three _boys_ were arguing a painfully pointless fight

'_So much for staying by my side at all times, dear Roaul.' _Daae sighed to herself and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Passing by her dressing room, she wondered in, just to get the comforting feel of her old life. It cooled the steam that had been blowing, and cheered her up. The giant mirror was still there. She approached it slowly and pressed her finger tips against the cold glass. Five round smears appeared before her. "I didn't even know your name," Christine whispered to her reflection. Reluctantly, the woman left the room, for it was no longer hers, and the maiden thought she was trespassing.

A figure lurked in the shadows of her dressing room. A black, leather glove pressed its own fingers against the marks his lover had made.

"Christine…"

Another chapter done. Please do review! I'm proud of this chapter. I wonder where your computers are located, because mine's in the basement, and it's really cold in the basement. I guess it's not such a great place to be when you're running a pretty high fever of 101. Yeah, I'm stupid, aren't I?


	3. The Other Side of the Mirror

Red Rose

Chapter III: The Other Side of the Mirror

A pier glass, a sofa, a dressing-table and a cupboard was all that was necessary, when it came to furniture. On her walls, hung a few engravings, and a small selection of proud treasures, earned from becoming a dancer. Meg locked the door, giving her and Christine some privacy. "Oh, Christine! It's absolutely wonderful to see you again!"

"Isn't it though? It seems like forever since we last saw one another." She paused as she heard a rustling sound outside the door. "How are things here? I heard Carlotta has left."

"Yes, that is true. She left so suddenly! No one quite understood why." Little Giry smiled warmly at her best friend. "Oh lord, that was the happiest day of our lives. Remember at rehearsals, how some of the ladies used to plug up their ears? Not to mention she was a horrible woman!"

"Why, Meg Giry, I would've never thought to hear such words out of your mouth!" Christine laughed lightly, scooting closer to her on the sofa. "Although, she did have her demands."

"Enough about the opera! Tell me about Roaul; it must be wonderful to be a countess!" Her eyes shone brightly, starring into the heavens sort of dreamily. "He absolutely adores you! No wonder you two married."

Daae looked down at her lap. She made sure that she was to study each individual stitch of her dress before answering. Her lips tried to form the words, which she so desperately wanted to say,

_He's been nothing but a child! He hasn't the slightest idea what terrible words he speaks. He has no right to criticize the one who inspired my voice. Doesn't Roaul know the pain inflicted in his words?_

Of course, if she were to say that, she be choosing to defend her false friend, and she would not know how Meg, or anyone else for that matter, would interpret that. So, the woman concocted a white lie, which she spoke of uneasily. "We're doing wonderfully!"

"I'm so happy to hear that!" she spoke, holding up the gas-flame, in its gas prison, bringing some light into the surrounding darkness. It was an unusually cloudy morning, for so early in the day. The burst of light splashed over the walls, making it far easier to admire such decorations.

Mme. Chagny's eyes left her clothing and fell upon a white mask, hanging from one of the hooks on the walls. She cocked her head, wondering if she was seeing things.

"I found it…" Meg followed Christine's line of eye sight. The happy smile had gone from her face, as she took on a rather saddened look. "It was the day when he escaped." The dancer girl retrieved it from the wall and watched as the singer traced a finger around the eye hole, and down the bridge of its nose. "Our mob failed in finding him, but I managed to find the mask that he left behind. I found that…" Giry clamped her mouth shut, making the time between her and her friend more serious, more dramatic. "…and a music box."

"Music box?" The countess spoke softly, meeting Meg's eyes, while still stroking the mask as if it were a newborn infant.

She nodded slowly. "Mother has it now; I thought I should give it to her. You know, Christine, he loves you too."

A reddish tone crept across the pupil's face. "What do you mean?" Snapping out of her trance-like state, she placed the mask back on the table in front of her.

"Don't be so embarrassed." She couldn't help but make a small laugh at 'Little Lottie's' actions. "It's perfectly normal to miss that 'Angel of Music', you once told me about." A smooth skinned hand cupped the maiden's cheek. "There is no shame in wanting to see him. Besides," A spare finger wiped away the cold tear that dripped down from Christine's face, "he might want his mask back."

"I'm sure he's gotten himself another one." She smiled weakly, as Meg embraced her.

"Then what will be your excuse when you go back down there?" The blond placed the mask back into her idol's hands, and closed her fingers carefully around it. "Don't you worry, it'll be fine!"

"But-but, Roaul!" She choked out, frightened on how her husband would react. "What if he finds out? He's gone through so much to free me from him! I think he might just go mad if anything happens!"

"Did he talk to the managers?"

"Yes, and they're _still_ arguing about _him_!" Christine cried.

"I'll cover for you, I promise!" Meg grinned and pushed her from the sofa. "Now, you go into your dressing room, and don't you come back until something interesting happens!" And with that, the dancer shooed her friend out of the room, giggling.

So back into the dressing room she went. Quickly, she slid the giant mirror open and closed it, without making a sound. It was the same as before, cobwebs, the occasional roaming rats, nothing she was _that_ scared of. Down once more to that dungeon which she knew too well. Her pulse was racing within her. Yes, there were still those burning candles. The flames were glowing with a vibrant red. They were placed all around, and for one of the first times, Miss. Daae realized just how romantic it was. The piano rested lonely on the bank of the lake. She ran her fingertips over the ivory keys. It was true. He had stopped playing, for dust had collected on her skin. She sat down on the bench, which now seemed so cold through the fabric of her dress. Her eyes started to tear; music just wasn't magical if he wasn't there to play it.

"Chris…tine…?" A figure emerged from the darkness. There was a look of plain surprise upon his half-covered face. Just as she thought, he had found another mask. "What are you doing here?" The phantom spoke coolly, making her feel as though she was no longer wanted.

Christine put the mask on the top of his piano. "Roaul and I-well, I came back to the Opera…" Her brown eyes avoided his gaze. "I wanted to see you, again. I missed you."

"And so, you bring a mask. Is it for your own protection?" He said with bitterness, yet that only covered up the immense hurt he was feeling inside. He stepped back into the shadows, repelling himself from her. "I see I am nothing but a beast to you…"

"No! That's not it at all!" She sprung from the bench and made her way towards him. "That was only an excuse to make my way down here, it means nothing to me!"

"You lie, Madame."

"You dare accuse me of lying?" She bit hard on her lip. "Do you truly hate me so?"

Silence.

"…I believe it is _you_ who hate me, Mme. Chagny." He spoke these words so coldly, it scent a chill up her spine. "Go, now. You've done so before." The man had made a vow and he swore to himself that he would keep it.

"Why, my angel-"

At this, the 'specter' turned around, and for the first time, she saw _total_ and _complete _sadness all over his face. "Don't feed yourself lies, child. I am no angel. If you must address me by name, call me Opera Ghost. It seems fitting enough."

She shook her head and grabbed onto his arm with all her might. He hadn't expected such strength from such a little body. "I won't have it! You must have a name, a real name. Please, tell me! That's all I ask! Master, do tell me your name!" New tears had formed just as the old ones had dried. They poured like warm streams from her eyes, and traveled to the sleeves that she had gripped.

_No, I can not give in to her! I mustn't! Why, my god, do you torture an angel of hell? _His blue eyes gazed down at the woman which would have to be pried from him. This little thing, this little favor she asked, perhaps it was all she wanted. This lonesome carcass wished nothing more than to make her happy until the world's end. To hold her tightly when she needed comfort was a vision he often had. To become one with such a magnificent child was his most desirable dream. He knew that these things would always remain sweet, sweet dreams, and he loathed himself for it. The least this hopeless lover could do was tell the woman he loved his name.

"My name…"

Christine opened her eyes and gazed up at him. He remained focused on the object in front of him.

"is Erik…"

……………..

Done! Do review; I'm so proud of this chapter. Thank you so much for the tons of reviews from the last. You made me most happy. Now, excuse me while I go praise my lovely Erik!


	4. In the Cellars of His Solitude

Is anyone reading this, a Raoul fan? If you are…you have guts!

It's weird typing my name constantly…

_"Swear to me  
Never to tell  
The secret you know  
Of the angel in hell"_

_Erik _

_-Charles Hart for Andrew Lloyd Webber_

Red Rose

Chapter IV: In the Cellars of His Solitude

The skin beneath his clothing shivered with tiny bumps of gooseflesh, raised by the chill of the cellar's air. It was odd; he had never recalled his surface to shiver. He assumed, with the passing of years, that his body was immune to the icy harshness of such an environment. Yet, something made Erik want to tremble. Perhaps, it was the warmth Christine had made from her contact, for she was still clinging to his arm. She was the only warmth he knew.

Her eyes stung from her shedding of tears. Her vision was blurred from those that had yet to fall. Slowly, she lifted her head to him, almost afraid to speak.

"Erik?"

He nodded.

Christine gave the name approval. At least, she did in her mind.

"My arm, Christine."

The voice had saved her from her thoughts. Miss. Daae had not realized that she had refused to let go of the phantom's arm, and this caused her to flush. "Forgive me…" she whispered into his fabric, releasing the limb.

Erik took a couple steps forward; just enough so that he was out of her reach. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

She sat in silence for a moment, her dress draping over the floor. "That's a beautiful name-" The countess whispered, staring sadly at the back of him. _He's ignoring me…_

"I took the name. My mother couldn't even bare to look at me; no less bless me with a name. For a name, my dear, identifies you as someone, but to her, I was nobody at all…"

Christine's heart ached with pity. Was he intending on doing this? Did she not already feel guilty? She had tasted enough bitter tears for one day.

"You see, Christine Daae, I had a name, but it disappeared a long time ago. Who am I known as, Christine? Certainly not Erik! I am known as a ghost, I am known as a phantom. I have _become_ a phantom!" He clenched his fist to his side; he dare not look at her. "I have no identity." _If I were to die down here…nobody would know. Nobody would know…nobody would care... _And with a twirl of his black cloak, he withdrew into the darkness.

"Erik! Don't act like this!" She begged, choking on her sobs. Whether the maiden were to admit it, or not, she had come to see him. And he, who was once mad with love, acted as though she had never existed. A dreaded silence filled the room once more.

The past…was a cruel thing.

"Good day, Monsieurs!" Raoul stormed away from the two managers in furry. It was then; he noticed the absence of his female singer. His pulse raced, as he became frantic with worry.

"Monsieur, Christine isn't here." Meg scurried in front of him, blocking his path. Her body became tense as his face took on a rather intimidating look. A cold sweat moistened her skin.

"Do you mind telling me where she is, then?" Victome de Chagny was in no mood to play games.

"She-she's gone to visit her father's grave."

Raoul pushed her against the mahogany walls, scrumming against her. He was no fool, she was a horrible liar.

"No, you mustn't search for her! Christine wishes to be alone!" Meg called from behind. She then hurried down the corridor, after the viscount.

Pushing harshly into the door of Daae's dressing room, he bounded in. Raoul had searched the room from top to bottom for Christine and the Opera ghost. He peeked into every corner of blackness, as if he were a frightened child, searching for creatures in his closet. Little Giry ran in after him, her blond hair flying behind her as she went.

"Sir, no one is here! It would be wise just to wait for her return."

Raoul refused to give up so quickly. He mentally cursed the woman who had so easily disobeyed him. His heart felt as though it was being split in two. Hatred surged through his veins, and if he were to see this opera ghost again, he would put an end to him. Poor phantom, poor, poor phantom... what of poor Raoul? He cringed at the mere thought of Christine with that monster. It seems that the two men had more in common than they thought.

"Humbug! Humbug! Humbug! What a clever friend you are!" His blue eyes spotted the smears on the mirror. The glass was opened just a crack. No, he would not follow after her. Raoul would wait for Christine's explanation, and he would want to hear nothing but the truth!

_Let's just see what my darling comes up with!_

The dancer was quivering. Maybe a mad Raoul was just as terrifying as a mad specter.

"I shall wait on this sofa, thank you." Nodding to her, he collapsed onto the couch. The material became rumpled underneath him.

Meg continued to look at him, strangely. She did fear for Christine tonight. "Good-bye, Monsieur Changy."

"Farewell, Mademoiselle."

……

Sorry this chapter is so short. I think I might revise it later, when I have more ideas. But, please, review. My goal is 40, if you want me to update! More than that would be greatly appreciated.

Christine (Mikomi Taisho)


	5. Misery

**Red Rose**

**Chapter V**: Misery

She stiffened.

Christine hadn't moved from her spot. The truth was she was too terrified to even flinch. Her very soul felt as though it had been drained from her body.

She was lifeless.

Each breath she took, felt as though it was a painful stab in her delicate flesh.

Flames of surrounding candles, danced cheerful over the splendid red wood of _his _piano. They washed over the white porcelain mask, basking in the glow of the fire's light. Christine, feeling daring, made her way over to the instrument, careful not to arouse Erik. Those wide, brown eyes glared mockingly at the unfeeling scrap of clothing. Red liquid surged through her veins, boiling with bitterness and wrath. She had come to comfort a pitiful creature…she would leave, despising him.

"I was a fool to ever take pity on you. I was blinded by my own idiocy, to ever believe that I missed you!"

No response.

Her eyes became brimmed with fresh tears.

"**How could I ever miss a monster?"**

And Ms. Christine Daae swept the mask from the ledge, letting it crash into pieces, to the cold, hard floor.

The journey up to the opera house was that of a lonely one. Did she truly expect Erik to even look at her, no less forgive her? Could she really bring herself to believe that this was _his_ fault? A lonesome tear dripped down her face, that flawless face, entering slightly parted lips. It splashed against her tongue, letting Christine taste the salty water. Never, had something tasted so horrible.

Erik wallowed alone in the darkness. Oh, how her words hurt.

But she had come to him, in which he cruelly rejected her. He had dreamed such dreams in the night, but each dream ended the same. Her, betraying him, going off to live with that viscount, that handsome viscount who was blessed with a face handsome and tempting, a face which he longed for.

"_This face which earned a life of ceaseless searching,_

_A life, unfilled, that's left me bleak and yearning…_

_Never dare I wish-_

_Someone love a face like this…"_

Something twinkled in the blackness, slowly moving downward…

"How ridiculous…to expect a woman's tenderness..."

……………………

The viscount had become drowsy from his constant waiting. The sofa was indeed warm, and the imprint of Raoul's behind seemed not to go away. His eyelids fluttered open as he heard the gentle creak of a door shutting. But this was no door.

"Christine!"

The woman froze in her place. If it were not for her eyes, no one would have recognized her. The coloring of her skin had disappeared long before, and she became cold, like the dead. Raoul reached out and grabbed her wrists, realizing they were numbed by icy air.

"Go ahead; I dare you to tell me you were with him!" Victome de Chagny was delirious with rage. "Say it, _my dear, _I wish to hear those words!"

"Why are you so quick in attacking me?" She screamed, slightly hurting her throat. She had never screamed at him before. In fact, he didn't think she had the heart to even yell. The husband blinked for a spilt second, until his expression changed to furry.

"You seem upset, Christine! What has happened?" He laughed harshly, causing her to cringe at his coldness. "Did you see your precious phantom?"

She shuddered, fighting to break free from his grasp. "Let go of me, Raoul! Oh please, do let me go!" The fingers wrapped around her flesh, held on tightly. The grip was strong, and was surely not gentle.

It was _fierce_.

"Not until you tell me what happened! I will go to any lengths, in order to find out the events which have happened between a beauty and a beast!"

"Nothing, Raoul! I swear it was nothing!" She whimpered, feeling the pressure on her wrists. Not once, had Raoul abused her like this. It frightened her…

"Oh Christine, you shouldn't have disobeyed me! Not only that, but how could you even think of going down there? How could you go down there, knowing that our **child** rests within your womb?" His breath was hot against her shivering body. "You have pained me, Christine!"

"Raoul, I-"

"I was wise in not wanting to come here, but like a lovesick fool, I followed you! I thought of you greatly, believing in your words. Perhaps, you really just wanted to visit friends. Now I see that was pure cockamamie! All of it!"

He grinned a wicked smile. "You say he knows all that goes on in his opera? Can he hear us now, Christine? Is he waiting for you behind that cursed mirror? Let it be known that _I_ was the one to win your love, and that _you_ were the one to bear me a child! Let that demon know it!" All sanity Raoul had, was lost, as he became mad with jealously.

She burst out of his hold, stroking her wrists in order to ease the pain of the back and blue marks that stain them. "How dare you speak of Erik like that? I see all compassion you have had is gone!"

He took a step forward, backing her up against the wall. "So, he has a name, now? Erik, you say?" Raoul snapped, furiously. "What a name! Are you fond of it, Christine?"

She pushed him away, scurrying towards the door to escape.

"If you love him, do tell me!"

"You're speaking nonsense!" The soprano cried.

"Does your heart yearn for him?"

Her eyes widened, as she stood still. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up. Her attention had been caught, as she ever so brutally, turned around. Daae was now facing him entirely.

"Don't think I don't hear you…. Singing sweet melodies in your sleep, melodies that _Erik _hadtaught you!"

The heart was a strange thing. One moment, it was beating severely, and the next, it felt as though it had stopped.

Raoul de Chagny smirked, passing her, and leaving his wife to drown in misery.

………………..

Review, okay guys? I just get this big smile on my face whenever I see 'Review Alert' in my mailbox!


	6. A Light in the Darkness

Christine (sitting on Erik's lap): So, I have made it to the long awaited chapter. A chapter in which Raoul leaves and romance must bloom. Oh, it truly makes me happy to see Erik and I- I mean Christine (the _other_ Christine) together… (sigh) perhaps I should've made this an Erik/OC story-

Erik: I am flattered by your kindness, my Christine…

Raoul: How come everybody detests me?

Erik: (Waiting patiently for the story) Silence, fop! You're breaking her concentration!

Raoul: Why you despiteful-

Christine: Why not read this fanfic of mine? It is understood that I do not own Erik…which I often feel sad over…and Raoul, thank heavens I don't own him!

Raoul: HEY!

Erik: I adore you…

Christine: (blush) …

**Red Rose**

Chapter VI: A Light in the Darkness

One hour…

Sixty minutes…

3,600 seconds…

Sixty minutes of eerie silence. Her brain felt as though it was being savagely thrown against her skull. Each part of her body ached down to the pinkie toe.

She was confused. Christine looked down upon her wrists, studying the horror of her newly formed bruises, the bruises that _he_ had put there…

Christine fell to her knees, tears gliding down her beautiful face. Raoul didn't love her. He couldn't have loved her! If he did, he would've trusted her! He would've noticed her before she let the city of Paris know that she had a fabulous voice. It was **her** voice that made the angels weep. This voice was a gift from heaven above. This sweet melody was a magnificent triumph. It was a magnificent triumph…to _him_.

"_Hounded out by everyone_

_Met with hatred everywhere_

_No kind word from anyone_

_No compassion anywhere…"_

The words sang tauntingly in her head. She needed to rest, needed to lay her head down on the softness of a pillow.

"_Christine…"_

It was unbearable. Her vision had become blurred to the point where Ms. Daae thought she would surely faint.

"_Christine, why? Why?"_

"Oh, my angel," she spoke, "I don't know why. Why did I ever betray you? How could I end a relationship that lasted since childhood? I only reunited with Raoul for a matter of months, before I decided to change my life forever. Leaving you seemed so easy to do at the time. But that was selfish of me. I was the only thing you had, wasn't I? And for that, angel, I feel foolish and rotten." Her hands pushed eagerly into the mirror again, "How could I simply ignore you? You _need_ me…"

…………..

Christine loved him. If she didn't she would've been at his side in an instant. But Raoul found himself wandering the streets of France alone. Christine and that Erik…they had a special type of relationship. It was the kind that was exquisite and rare. It was a love in which neither had the courage to admit to themselves, no less, their mate. It was a deep love, which burned in the soul, just waiting to be unleashed. The viscount sneered to himself. How could he not have noticed? That music box was constantly being brought up in daily conversation. She sang shyly to herself, when she thought no one was around to hear. Monsieur de Chagny chose to remain oblivious to the possibility that the former chorus girl was in love with an angel, her angel. He was completely caught up in thoughts that Raoul failed to see, that he had strayed from the sidewalk, and a horse carriage was trotting his way…

……………

"Erik…"

He turned around to discover Christine. _'You stupid man! Did you really have to look to confirm that it was Christine? Have you become that pathetic?'_

"Erik…" She looked weak, as though she would collapse at any given moment. Her body was slowly wavering from side to side, when finally her legs gave out underneath her.

If it weren't for the quick agility of an opera ghost, Christine would've met the pain of a cellar floor against her skin.

The phantom cradled her in his arms, concern suddenly overwhelming him. "Christine! Christine! Are you all right?"

She answered with a groan, obscuring her face in the flowing white of his shirt. He had such a wonderful masculine scent, that it made her want to saver every aspect of it.

His eyes couldn't help but venture of the divine image of her body, overflowing with longing desire. It was then; those deep blue orbs noticed the graffiti that tainted her lower arms.

His heart stopped dead. That wasn't there just an hour before.

"Christine, who has done this to you?"

He hugged her to him, her laying a hand over his broad chest. All betrayal he had felt had melted away. He was crumbling. Erik couldn't stand to see her hurt, at which he broke his vow.

She stared up at him with warm, trusting eyes. And yet, those eyes held sadness. Those eyes were red from flowing water.

"Don't tell me_ he_-"

Christine squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to look away.

"My dear, no one shall ever harm you again. I will not allow them to!" He nuzzled her cheek with tenderness. "You are warm. I believe you are developing a fever."

She coughed a sound harsh to his ears. Christine Daae was becoming ill, and it was silently killing him.

"I'm fine Erik, truly…" _'Tired…I'm so tired'_

He shook his head. "I will take care of you. I must, for I can't stand to see you in your present state."

Carefully, he carried her over to the bed, and laid her down gently on the velvet sheets. They felt heavenly against her.

The specter smiled warmly at his love, enjoying how she felt comfort in his home.

Christine Shivered, as Erik pulled a blanket over her. A cloth wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead, and the warm water soothed the feeling of her abused parts. What tender loving care Erik had. It was a blessing that she was able to stay awake to witness it.

Ringing the cloth out, the phantom placed it on the bedside. His icy touch had become immune to her had he ran his fingertips through the soft curls of her hair.

"Goodnight, my angel," he cooed, desperately fighting the urge to place a light kiss upon her lips.

"Erik?" She whispered into the sheets.

"Yes, my dear?"

"Would you lay with me tonight? I'd feel most safe."

For once, his cheeks flushed. "Are you sure, Christine?"

She coughed once more, causing her throat to become a bit irritated.

"Yes…"

………….

Christine: A chapter finished, to which I am most pleased.

Erik: (smiles) And so Raoul de Chagny meets his end! A rose for you, my dear.

Christine: Erik, I never quite said that-

Raoul: Horrible woman! You killed me!

Christine: Monsuier, I-

Erik: (dancing around) Death to the fop!

Raoul: Mad man!

Christine: My head hurts…it will be most hard to **sing** tonight…

Erik: (to Raoul) Damn you, my _friend…_you have made Christine pain!

Raoul: Me? ME! Why you-!

Christine: (ignoring them) Do review!


	7. Drift into Happiness

**A/N**: I don't care if the French do or don't celebrate Valentines Day! In my story, they do!

**Red Rose**

**Chapter VII**: Drift into Happiness

February 14, 1873

(Three days after Christine's illness)

Waking up to darkness made it difficult to determine whether it was morning or night.

Christine's eyelids fluttered open. Something with a delightful aroma managed to intrigue her senses. She dug her fingers into the blood red pillow, breathing in its fragrance. Ms. Daae held the soft bedding under her chin. Erik…it was Erik's scent…

Where was Erik?

Over on the dresser, lay a single long-stemmed rose, tied with a black satin ribbon. It served as a paper weight for the note that sat underneath it.

'My Dear Christine,

If you should awaken, and find me not here, do not worry. I have merely gone out on a final errand to bring you your medicine. I also supply for you, the morning paper. I know you like to keep up with the current events of our city. My managers were kind enough to lend me with their copy. Although, I strongly advise you, to skip over the headline story, as I find it to be rather disappointing on your behalf.

I shall return shortly,

Erik

PTO

Happy Valentines Day…

I hope you find comfort in this home, which is yours.'

"Valentines Day? I'd completely forgotten!" Her eyes widened as she placed a hand over her lips in shock. "I'll read the paper later. I must get something fro Erik! Oh, he'll be furious if he finds me out, but…I'll be back in no time!"

……………..

"Andre! Andre!" M. Firmin searched through his office, tirelessly. "Where is it? For the love of god, where is-"

"What is it, Richard? You're acting like a crazy person!" He appeared in the doorway, with a grave expression upon his face.

"My paper! One moment, it's on my desk! And the next- gone!"

"Get yourself another one then. Is that so hard?" Moncharmin let out a deep sigh, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.

"He took it!"

"Who?"

" O.G., of course! He's back, my fellow! Ms. Daae's return! It triggered something in that _genius_ mind of his!"

The manager patted the air, trying to calm down his hilarious partner. "Now, now! It's just the paper! No harm in taking a paper…"

Richard Firmin sat down at his desk, leaning over it with arms outstretched. "I suppose you're right."

A soft knock was heard on the door.

"Come in!" Andre bellowed.

The ballet instructor gracefully made her entrance into the room, carrying a wrapped up paper in her left hand. "He wishes me to give this to you, monsieur. He is most thankful." Madame Giry slapped it down in front of the two. "It is mine, but you are welcome in using it."

"Yes, thank-thank you madame." Firmin replied shakily while accepted it.

"Happy Valentines Day, gentlemen." She gave a curt nod to them both, and walked out, closing the entrance behind her.

"Did she say…Valentines Da-?"

"I believe she did…" Andre stared almost nervously in his direction.

The men let out a bit of a scream.

………………

"Give these to him! Belgian chocolates are the best! Mother gave them to me, but you need them more…"

Christine sat with Meg in the, once again hers, dressing room. Was it her, or was Meg avoiding eye contact?

"Meg, is there something you wish to tell me?"

She placed the box of chocolates over to the side, and gazed at Christine with utter most sympathy. "You didn't read today's headline, did you?"

"No, I haven't yet…"

"Perhaps you should." Meg reached out and passed her a stack of papers. There it was, in bold letters, that day's story.

'**M. le Victome de Chagny: Critical Care**

On February 11th, Paris discovered M. Raoul de Chagny critically injured on the streets in front of M. Andre and Firmin's opera populaire. Beside him in the snow, were the footprints of a rather large horse, coming to the conclusion that M. Chagny must've met himself with the beast. The carriage driver was immensely upset, and declares that Raoul seemed to walk right into him. There was quite a commotion, as the town rushed the viscount off to the nearest hospital. Although M. Raoul seems to be in horrible shape, the young man refuses to die. We only wonder where Ms. Christine Daae was at the time of the accident. Where is the girl _now_? She is surely dedicated to him, and finds it hard to leave his side.'

She looked up from the page. "I didn't know-"

"It's not your fault. Christine, look at your wrists! He deserved it."

"I don't know bout that-" Her eyes burned from coming tears.

"Don't feel guilty for being with someone who truly cares about you! You don't need anymore pain!" Little Giry hoisted herself from the sofa and opened the mirror's door.

"This is a day of love; don't ruin it for him…"

Christine nodded, quickly blotting her tears.

"Don't forget the chocolates!"

……………

"Happy Valentines Day, Erik!" Christine was there when the man walked onto his home. She smiled sweetly at him, as he walked over to the dresser to pick up the medicine cup.

"You sound happy, this afternoon. This makes me happy as well." He retrieved a small bottle from inside his black cloak, and poured a red syrup into the drinking utensil. It looked unappealing in the eyes of the singer, as he strolled over to the bedside to give it to her.

"Here, it should rid you of any lingering illness you have." He handed it to Christine, at which she eyed it for a moment, before reluctantly taking it.

"Thank you…"

Erik raised an eyebrow to Christine's disgruntled expression. She just swished it around in the cup and continued to glare at it.

"Why so hesitant? You look at it as though it were poison."

"Maybe it is…" She murmured to herself, audible to the phantom's hearing.

He couldn't help but release a small laugh. "Christine, you're acting very childish now. It is for the good of your health!"

"Yes Erik, but have you looked at it? It looks disgusting, smells putrid and is bound to taste dreadful!" She complained, refusing to open her mouth.

"If not for you, drink it for me. I bought it for you!"

The soprano contemplated this, and let out a defeated sigh, pinching her nose to try and drown out the terrible taste of the liquid dripping down her throat.

"I was right..."

"What?"

"It tastes like the inners of a dead man!"

Erik simply laughed and went to get her a glass of water.

"Next time I shall feed it to you!" He reached for the glass, "Forgive me Christine, but I wasn't able to find a gift worthy of being presented to you."

She sipped from the new drink. "Oh Erik, you give me beautiful roses daily. I call that a gift in itself. And I am most thankful for the water…"

She waited for Erik to return to her. "Here, they're chocolates from Madame Giry. I know it's not much, but it's all I was able to get." Her cheeks felt as though they were on fire, as Erik blinked in surprise.

"Um, thank you…I wasn't quite expecting-"

"You've taken care of me these past few days, it's the least I could do."

"Valentines Day is not the friendliest of holidays for me…Christine, you have made it special." _'I don't think I'll mention to her…that these chocolates are what I live on…'_

She smiled sadly, resting her head on his shoulder. "I read the paper today."

"You did?"

"Yes…and thank you, for trying to protect me. It wasn't necessary. …I chose not to be with Raou-him anymore. I will return to the opera the beginning of the week."

'_Don't blush…blushing makes you look like a fool. Don't let her see you…' _"The beginning of next week? Why not now?"

"I'd thought I would spend some time with you…" She leaned further into him.

Before he had any time to react, Christine placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "Happy Valentines Day…"


	8. The Ghost's Box 5

**A/N**: French translations right after the statement

**A/A/N**: HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY PENNY! This chapter's for you!

**Red Rose**

Chapter VII: The Ghost's Box 5

Christine's kiss became more passionate with the passing of seconds. One moment, she was making friendly conversation, and the next- Erik could feel her lips pressed heatedly up against his own. This was not the innocent child he once tutored. This was no girl, but a woman. A woman…

How could he dare to touch her, knowing that each tingling sensation was experienced by another? Those rosy lips had been claimed by a man, a man that was not him. Fingers were most likely to have roamed over the goddess-like curves of her body. What actions of love had been shared between his angel and her husband? He felt tears swell up in his eyes. They flowed down his cheeks in a hot stream of water, trickling under his mask. They dripped to the corners of his lips in a painfully slow motion. Erik drew back, shaking his head in a paltry fashion. "No…" he spoke faintly.

"What's wrong?" Her angelic voice made him become weak in the knees. "Erik?"

"You are vulnerable, Christine." He stared at the ground, talking in a slightly_ trembling_ voice. "Whether you chose to be with Raoul or not, he is dying in a rather dismal place. And you are not there, comforting him in his last moments on this earth. Instead, you are here with me, attempting to fulfill my most desirable dreams." He paused, "I hardly think that's fair to the man." This had been a rollercoaster of emotions, and O.G. knew it.

"You-you called him Raoul…" Christine quivered, silently astonished. Never, in the time that she knew Erik, had he ever been one to address Raoul by his actual name. Monsieur, viscount, the occasional ass(sic) or even fop, but never his birth name. He was usually half-crazed when she ever would mention the famous Chagny. In fact, he becoming mad and trying to hang Raoul with his Punjab lasso was precisely the reason why she left. How could she be with a murderer?

Because she knew she loved him. She could not hide loving him.

"Is it so amazing that I called him by name? Do you really think so low of me?" He glared at her with a touch of anger.

"No! No, of course not…" She took in the flickering of the burning wax's fire. "Maybe I should see him then, it be awfully cruel not to." Ms. Daae lifted herself from the bed, and fixed the position of her dress that was wrapped so awkwardly around her. "I hope I wasn't a nuisance."

"You could never be, my dear."

"My offer stands, if you wish me to stay with you."

He lit up inside. She didn't want to leave him, not right away. She wanted to stay. "Perhaps…there is something I could give to you. Before you go to visit Monsieur Chagny, how would you like to see the opera the way an Opera Ghost sees it?"

Christine tried not to chuckle, for her mind **had** wandered to Raoul lying in a hospital bed. "I'd like that very much, my Angel."

Erik smiled. "Alors on le décide! (Then it is decided!) I shall bring you to my opera!"

…………………………

"_Faust _performance is tonight. It is to be a full house!" Firmin clapped his hands together joyfully. Moncharmin was happy as well, as they entered their office with a wide smile on their faces. "Why, Valentines Day is not at all bad, is it?"

"Non (no), I wouldn't fret about a thing!"

That evening, the managers found on their table, an envelope addressed to both men, reading 'M. Andre and Firmin- _Private_.' Of course, it was a letter from the ghost himself:

'My Managers,

Unlike before, I wish to withdraw my request, which is that box 5 be left to someone else. I find myself in need of its atmosphere, and would indeed enjoy using it for this night's play. I must remind you, that it is to be left empty for my use. If not, I'll find myself being immensely disappointed among the many others who sit tediously in your audience. Also, I would like to tell you, that my salary is long due. I have put it off until now, as I considered giving dear Mme. Giry a break. Please put twenty notes of a thousand francs each into this envelope. Hand it to Mme. Giry, who knows my instructions. I wish you luck tonight. I hear it's a full house.

Your most humble and obedient servant,

Opera Ghost'

"Il met un amortisseur sur tout, pas il? Je ne peux prendre ceci plus ! (He puts a damper on everything, doesn't he? I can't take this anymore!)" Firmin slapped his fist on the table. "The one time I am filled with happiness, _O.G._ takes it away! How dare he, insulting our opera like he did! I doubt it that boring! I tell you, my fellow, we should've never allowed that girl to come back!"

"Now, Richard, do not go blaming this on Ms. Daae! She is a fine girl! She deserves respect! Let us go get the Prima Donna and retire to the dressing room!" He stuffed the letter into his pocket with little care.

There was much gnashing of the teeth indeed. All the blood rushed to his face, as Firmin Richard stormed out of the room in a grouchy mood that seemed to put everyone around him, in a bad mood as well. Andre just followed behind, nervously chattering with any passing ballet girl or stage crew. Oh, what he wouldn't give for a nice cigarette, that moment.

Madame Giry was told to put the note where ever it is she puts it on a little shelf in Box 5 which was rather unkempt from its lack of use. After all, no one had quite the courage to stand a whole performance in the box, for they were too frightened that the phantom of the opera might make an unexpected visit, and want it back. Mother Giry did Erik a favor and cleaned it up for his use, sweeping away any dust or dirt that had piled up in it.

"So now he's bringing lady friends…"

………………………………………………..

Oh, I'm terribly sorry! It's dreaded writers block! Please, do review!

Christine


	9. After the Performance

Penny: (walks into my room) Thanks for writing that last chapter for me, Christine!

Christine: (in a bit of a trance) Of course…anytime…

Penny: Christine? … (Slaps forehead and turns the music box off) Stop listening to _him _…he's melting you're mind!

Christine: (All the sudden flustered) Angel! Have you left me, my angel!

Penny: Christine, are you ignoring me!

Erik: Hello, girls! I bought the pocky! This Japanese delicacy is rather good!

Christine: Erik! (Runs to him, ecstatic)

Erik: (grins)

Penny: I give up! I'll post this chapter for my soprano friend and her phantom! Man, this is annoying me…

**Red Rose**

Chapter IX: After the Performance

The gala was in great commotion that night. The ballet girls were in a particular fright, glancing up towards Box 5 now and again. They had been hurdling together for comfort and protection, which, in the eyes of a chorus girl or stage crew member, looked awfully ridiculous. _ Those_ people weren't a least bit scared; for all their fears had been drown out by their intake in alcohol, which usually eased them up for a performance.

"He's coming, the phantom of the opera! He's coming tonight!" Meg whispered to her fellow dancers. "Not only that, but he's bringing someone with him!"

"Who would be mad enough to accept an invitation from the Opera Ghost?" A woman with soft blond curls and wide green eyes asked, rather stupidly.

"As if it weren't obvious! Christine Daae came back, don't you know? I'm telling you, that girl is going to put this place right back into the papers! It will be screaming of publicity!"

"Jammes! Don't talk like that! Christine is our friend! We should trust her good judgment!" Meg's eyes narrowed on Little Jammes, standing cowardly in the back.

"Well, it wasn't very good judgment falling for a half-crazed musician! Wouldn't it just be better if she went back to the hospital to visit her _husband_? Spare us this night which is destined to end badly!"

Meg thought up the satisfactory feeling of the impact of her knuckles against that girl's face. Of course, she wouldn't dare do a thing like that! She was a lady, and ladies aren't supposed to create acts of violence.

"What's with you this evening? You're always so frightened that you stammer when you speak! Let's not talk about Christine anymore. It's rude to talk about someone when they're not around to hear you!" The Giry ballet girl backed away from the group, showing she was no longer interested in this conversation. _'Mother will be hearing about this...'_

………………

"Monsieur Chagny, time to give you your medicine!"

The nurse walked into the hospital room, carrying the tray with an assorted variety of drugs she would always give to him. Also, the nurse bought gauss, used to cover his opened wounds. She was a bit worried, when Raoul didn't answer with his usual groan of agony.

"Monsieur? Is everything all right?" Stepping quietly over to the bed, the doctor's assistant only rightfully assumed that her patient had fallen into a slumber.

However, that wasn't the case…

You see, Raoul de Chagny had been placed in the nicest room available, which just happened to be on the first floor…

"Sir? Sir, you must wake up." Carefully, the woman pulled back the sheets, discovering there was nothing under them but blood soaked cushions. Unable to even scream, she stared down onto the ground, spattered with a trail of red liquid that led up to a half-opened window.

Sticking her head out, the nurse searched frantically for any sign of the viscount.

"Oh, he'll bleed to death, if he is not cared for! It is dark out, where could he possibly go?"

And she ran to get the doctor.

……………………

"If I were to say 'Boo!' would that make people any more terrified than they all ready am?" Erik sighed, assorting Christine into the chair sitting lonesome in his box.

"Well Erik, you do have quite a reputation…" The soprano trailed off, afraid of what her accomplice's reaction might be.

"My dear, I have been working very hard to befriend my fellow man. There is no reason to be frightened of me!"

"Then explain to me, for my knowledge only, why you keep a Punjab lasso curled up in _that_ corner?" Christine pointed an index finger towards the rope lying against the wall.

"It's-it's for protection! You never know what may happen these days…"

She giggled at his flustered expression. "Je suis sûr qu'il est..." (I'm sure it is…)

He smiled warmly at her, making Christine just want to melt into his arms, and then wish that time would freeze so she remain in that position forever and a day. Right now, Erik was all she wanted to think about…

But the horrible image of Raoul still haunted her mind. It gave her discomfort, and Erik could see the worried expression play across her face.

He pulled her to his body, and gave her a comforting kiss into the curls of that beautiful hair. "He's fine, my child. I'm sure of it."

She gripped the white fabric of his shirt with care, and allowed herself to feel calm as she nodded her head with reassurance. "Merci…" (Thank you…)

"Oh, Christine…"

The performance went on, and Christine found herself having an exceptionally good time. It was nice to blend in with the audience and enjoy seeing just how professional her and her friends were. When Meg graced the stage with her light foot work, Christine laughed at the thought of calling out her name in the silent gala. Erik, although, was not at all paying attention to the opera, or the cold stares Firmin was shooting him from below. He was giving full attention to the ecstatic woman sitting beside him. It was then he began to wonder why he was such a fool as to rejecting the kiss she had gave him, earlier in the day. He glanced at the lasso briefly and then pondered the thought that maybe he was becoming a bit too friendly towards his Chagny friend. Erik's thoughts erased quickly as Christine self-consciously placed her hand over his with tenderness, and intertwined her soft fingers with the black leather of his gloves.

The seats emptied after the finale but Erik and Christine remained as they were, talking about the show, which O.G. just agreed with everything his love had to say. Then, he and Christine walked outside the doors of the opera, enjoying the beauty of the night. The air was crisp and refreshing as it danced across their flesh.

"Let us sit down, Christine." Erik wrapped his arms warmly around her tiny waist, breathing in her sweet perfume which smelt of night-blooming Jasmine. She agreed, sinking into his lap with joy, as he pulled her down towards the earth's ground.

"The stars are lovely, aren't they, Erik?" She replied, gazing up towards the beads of light the twinkled brightly in the heavens.

'_They could never be as lovely as you, my angel…'_ "Indeed…"

"Get-away-from-her…!"

Christine and Erik shot a look in the direction of the painfully familiar voice. There, in the darkness of night, was a deeply injured Raoul.

………………….

Penny: That was….evil.

Christine: I told you I didn't kill him!

Erik: Why didn't you kill him!

Christine: Because I have better plans for you… (Nuzzles Erik)

Erik: I trust you then… (Embraces warmly)

Penny: O.O…I wish I weren't here.

Erik: (to reviewers) No one likes a debtor, so review my friends! It's better if my orders are obeyed!


	10. The Coldness of Snow

** A/N**: Sorry it took so long to update! I feel most horrible that I haven't been updating "Forever an Illusion", as I know my dear reviewers have been waiting to read. But right now, my mind is focused on Erik, so I hope you enjoy the chapter in which I am presenting to you!

  
Red Rose

**Chapter X**: The Coldness of Snow

The wind made a laughing sound as it whipped against the bare branches of trees. Christine despised the wind. How could it laugh? What happened to that breath-taking moon-lit night, the one she had been admiring just a mere moment ago? Why did the sky, that was so thick with stars, feel empty like a never-ending sea of black? She wanted happier times, she didn't want the wind. For the wind, either lashed, whispered or cried little mysteries known to itself. The wind never gave hope, it never gave warmth. Christine picked up herself from Erik's lap, and ran to Raoul, as a mother would run to her injured child.

"Oh, heavens Raoul! Vous semblez horrible!" (You look horrible!) She rested her hand on his shoulder, he placing his over it. He stared at her, watching the wind blow wisps of hair against her cheeks. A light snow began to fall, making her skin glow with the tiny drops of snowflakes that had moistened it. Brown eyes did widen with a gigantic concern.

"I'm fine, Christine!" His breath became an air of steam, as it met her face. She could see that he was deeply hurt, although the sternness of his face did not show it. Raoul's expression softened a bit, when Christine took a step back in fear. She studied the black-red blood that covered her hand, and bent her head down in shame. The viscount made a sort sigh, taking her into his arms, and holding Christine to his chest. "I forgive you…" He whispered, joining along with the wind.

"Forgive her? She did nothing wrong!" Erik hoisted himself from the snow, brushing off his pants. He was infuriated that Raoul had return. He watched, as his love buried her head in that blood stained shirt, trembling up against the Chagny. Was this guilt she was feeling? Or was Christine, in fact, vulnerable?

"Nothing wrong?" Raoul bellowed. "She didn't even have the heart to care for me when I needed her most!" He looked down at his wife, "I don't blame you though." He sneered and looked back up at Erik, "I blame you!"

"Monsieur, you should journey back to the hospital! Your wounds are far from healed!"

"Oh, I will go back. You don't have to worry about that, _Erik_!" He watched with amusement as the phantom blinked in shock, at the sound of his name. "But I'm taking my wife with me!" And he drew her, now to his side, a similar way Erik had held her in the cellars, when Raoul went to rescue Christine. He was doing this to enrage him, and it was working to its fullest extent. "You're my bride Christine, don't you lose sight of that!"

"Raoul!" This wasn't like him! Could it be, perhaps, that Raoul and Erik were switching roles? Was it to be _Raoul_ that was mad, and _Raoul_ who was dangerous? "Let go of me!"

"Gladly." And he pushed her harshly to the side. "I just have but enough strength, to put an end to you, Mr. Opera Ghost!" He drummed his fingers against the sheath of his sword. "How about it, dear phantom? Care to rid the world of me?"

'_You haven't the slightest idea how much…' _"I will not fight someone who is as well as dead! If I am to fight you, you must be healthy, so I can bask in full pleasure of killing you!" He advanced forward, trying to get to Christine. But Raoul was blocking her.

"Or is it, just maybe, that our phantom has become soft? Don't tell me, you didn't enjoy killing a man!" Raoul laughed cruelly.

"I killed for my own reasons! Not for the fun of it!" He shot back, inching forward to Miss Daae. The snow crunched underneath his feet.

"Really now? And what were those reasons?" Monsieur de Chagny slowly drew his sword.

"Non! (No!) Please don't fight!" Christine cried.

"This doesn't concern you, my darling." Raoul snapped.

"You'll die!"

His eyes narrowed on her. "Alors je mourrai avec peu de regret!" (Then I shall die with little regret!)

Erik studied Raoul for a second. "You are truly foolish." He drew back his ebony cloak, pulling the sword from its sheath. "Don't you know never to challenge the Opera Ghost?"

Raoul sliced the air with his sword, smirking. "You have yet to impress me." Damn him, always grabbing an opportunity to show off. This was a serious event! The fop was even annoying when bleeding to death. This fight would surely end his life sooner. But, if that is what he wanted, Erik would by all means, give it to him.

Christine watched in horror at the clashing of metal. But unlike the first sword fight, Christine only wished that Erik would get out alive. For a man near death, Raoul had started off with remarkable strength, for killing Erik was something he strongly desired. The fast foot work of the two, made snow spray hatefully at their faces. Miss Daae only hoped this was a dream-no- that it was a nightmare, in which she was going to wake up. But this was real. The sharp blade of the sword managed to slice through Erik's flesh. However, he acted as though he didn't feel a thing, and continued slashing at the weakening viscount. Quickly, the two men twisted and turned, blocking the attacks of the other. Christine hated feeling as though she was a helpless damsel, and she wanted more than anything, to stop this whole thing. The wind continued howling a dreadful sound.

Raoul succeeded in cutting through the skin of Erik's arms, and that caused him to waver a little bit. Christine fought back tears. She had had enough crying episodes during this week, than she had ever remembered. The soprano watched painstakingly from the sheet of white, she was lying on. She watched as Raoul cornered Erik, she watched as Erik seemed to give up, she watched as Raoul raised his sword…

She did not watch, as he lowered it.

"CHRISTINE!"

The silver weapon severed through her stomach, staining Raoul's blade with her blood. Her breathing quickened, her chest raising and falling rapidly. Those sparking brown eyes seemed to be glazed over, with an empty look of no emotion. Raoul did not hesitate in removing his weapon. Christine's balance was lost, as she lost her footing, falling into the snow.

Victome de Chagny was too stunned to move from his place. The grip on his handle loosened as he let it drop into the whiteness. Then, he collapsed to his knees.

Erik forgot about his own wounds and fled towards her. He scooped her injured body up in a loving, gentle way. "Christine!" He moaned, "My beautiful Christine, why did you do such a reckless thing?"

Her body was covered with red snow flurries. She cupped his cheek, tenderly. "_My _**beautiful** Erik, did you really think I'd let him harm you?"A small, pitiful giggle met his ears.

"Christine…" He watched as she closed her eyes to darkness.

What will happen? Review and I will update sooner!

Christine


	11. As the Rose Wilts

Red Rose

**Chapter XI**: As the Rose Wilts

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but which one of you is this girl's husband?" The nurse turned her head, noticing Raoul's hand rise slightly from his lap.

"Well sir, although I'm glad that you had enough sense to come back here, I'm afraid I have some…rather horrible news." She let a deep sigh escape from her lips. "Perhaps you'd prefer it if Mr. Opera Ghost were not here?" The assistant replied, tilting herself towards Erik.

"No. Please dear lady, go on." Victome de Chagny and Erik were not in great spirits. They thought that if they were to bicker, it would be far too childish of them. Christine was far more important.

"Christine has received a rather monstrous wound of the stomach. The sword's blade did not succeed in causing anything fatal, and we're happy to report that with the proper care and treatment, she will be back to herself in a matter of months. But…" her voice trailed off into a lonely whisper, "It's my sad duty to tell you, that with the sudden blow to her body…"

"What is it, Madame?" Erik leaned forward in his seat, his eyes pleading with her. She must tell _him_. It did not matter if Raoul were there to listen, or not.

"Mr. Chagny, your wife has…lost the baby."

The phantom of the opera, died inside.

…………

Raoul did not wait. He rushed down the wing in a staggering run, and swung open the door. Her bed sat in the far corner of the room next to a large glass window, where the light streamed through. The glow of the moon washed across Christine's face. She lay there, lonesome in bed, not moving or even batting a lash. She did not possess the acknowledge that Raoul had even entered. Though she was only nineteen, in that moment she seemed ancient, with her eyes deprived of that look of happiness. They appeared as though they were nothing but two cold stones in a river of rippling water. Her hair was sprawled out over the pillow in tangles of chestnut brown. The only signs Christine showed of life were the small, graceful movements of her lips. She was singing, but her voice came out barely audible. Though he could not hear it, Raoul knew the melody that flowed from her lips. He had countless times in the past year, whenever he awoke in the middle of the night to find Christine still awake. It was something that drove him mad, something that caused him to _be _madSoftly in the darkness, she would murmur the song, so quietly that he could hardly hear it...

"_And in his eyes…_

_All the sadness of the world…_

_Those pleading eyes,_

_That both threaten and adore…"_

"Christine...?" She turned her unfeeling, empty eyes on him, tears softly flowing down her cheeks. Extending her hand out to him, she took his hand into hers. Her fingers were cold to the touch, as if coated in ice.

"I'm sorry, Raoul..."

There was a reluctant, hesitant pause. "I don't blame you, Christine."

But deep within the depths of his mind, he did. The magic between Raoul and Christine had been lost in a short moment. The viscount knew, from the thoughts that sounded through his head, that he would never be able to tear a woman away from her angel. He drew his hand back, walking towards the door. "Good-bye, Christine."

She knew that was no simple good-bye. And, truth be told, she was not saddened by it. She wanted Raoul to have a wife, who would think of him, and only _him_. A wife, who wished to embrace only _him_. Someone, whose mind wasn't lingering with the love of the past… He-he deserved better.

(**A/N**: Did I write that! He'll be lucky if he marries a toad! Dreadful fop! Okay, back to the story…)

What caused her to tremble was the thought of her baby, the thought of Erik…

'_He must know…it be impossible for him not to…_' Christine buried her face in the fluff of feathers, crying for many obvious reasons.

………

"Monsieur, I think you should let her stay here with the doctor! I promise you she'll be in good hands!" The nurse fled off behind Erik as he sprinted to the patient's room. He would've been there sooner, but…but… it hurt to think about.

"Then would you be so kind as to giving me the necessary items she will need to regain her strength?" He turned on her, watching with regret as the lady shivered with fright. One was smart not to enrage an Opera Ghost. "I assure you, my friend; Miss Daae is in no better hands than mine."

"But, Mr. Chagny-"

"I will not have to worry about the man. Neither will Christine." And he left her, entering the room. He could hear the heart-breaking sobs of Christine, as she wailed into the pillows. She showed no intention in coming up for breath. She refused to look at anything unless it was to be the inside of her eyelids.

"My dear…" He cooed, his pure, calming voice filling the air. Erik placed a wonderfully smooth hand on her shoulder. "Christine, you know I can not bear to see you cry. It pains me so."

"How can you even talk to me?" She screamed into the bedding. "I must've broken your heart. Don't tell me you don't know, Erik! You must know now!"

"Yes, I know…" He looked at her, obscuring her tear-stained face within the fabric of the pillow. "Come now, I want to see you, Christine. Please look at me."

Slowly, the singer drew herself from the sheets. She looked up at him with red, burning eyes. "My baby's gone…"

Erik quickly embraced her, letting Christine cry freely in his chest. "Weep all you want my dear, it will only help…"

"The first month married to Raoul," she choked, "I admit I was happy. But Erik, I was _always _thinking about you! I couldn't stop myself! I sang, pretending you were there; I looked longingly at the night sky. It was then I realized that this love with Raoul…it wasn't real. It was some childhood romance! Well, I'm not a child! It wasn't the same with you. You made me feel complete; you made me yearn for you. It's the kind of love you described so passionately in you Duan Juan. That _scared_ me. So I convinced myself that I could not dare to love you. So, I continued living with Raoul, playing my little game of make believe. The truth is…" She took a deep breath, "I love you Erik!"

Christine pushed herself further into him, lovingly.

Erik brought her chin to his fingers, smiling warming. He caught her lips in a chaste kiss, before breaking away. "Let's go home, Christine."

………

No, my story's not over! I still got a good amount of chapters to come! Please review.

Christine


	12. Drowning in the Waters of Love

**A/N: My apologies for the long wait. According to my reviewers, fluff, plot and passion is a must. Be patient with me though, I'll try my best! The DVD is wonderful isn't it?**

**Red Rose**

Chapter XII: Drowning in the Waters of Love

Two weeks had passed since their unwanted visit to the hospital. Erik stayed by Christine's side for the entire time. At moments, a thought ran through Christine's mind, did Erik sleep? But he was human, so-didn't he have to? And, where exactly _did _Erik sleep? The only bed within the cellar was the one she was resting on, and surely, he did not sleep in the coffin found over beside the river's bank? That would be terrible!

When Christine had enough strength to eat, Erik would wrap her arms around his neck, and carry her bridal style to a petite table which they ate their food on. If not, Erik would bring Christine her meals in bed, making sure Miss Daae's comfort level was at its highest.

That day, she was stretched out onto the sofa, reading. Christine curled her bare toes into the fabric, feeling a rush of icy air against exposed skin. The girl shivered, pulling her clothing closer to her body. Erik noticed this.

"My dear?"

"Hm?" she lazily responded, engrossed in her book from his library. She wore her white nightgown with the matching shear robe, which Erik had kindly retrieved from her dressing room. In one hand she held the novel, and with the other Christine twirled a lock of hair around her delicate fingers.

"You seem to be shivering, are you cold?" He had forgotten just how grim cellar life was.

"Only a bit, Erik. I'm just fine how I am, though." She giggled, staring up at him.

Frowning slightly, he removed his cloak and took a seat next to her on the coach. Then Erik encircled the clothing around her, as if it were a blanket. "Better?"

Christine smiled shyly as her cheeks became heated, a sign that she was indeed blushing. "Oui…"

"What are you reading, Christine?" Erik tapped the cover lightly.

"Paper…" She joked.

"Yes, I know that…" He cuddled closer to her, running his hand down one of her arms.

"Edgar Allan Poe…"

"Oh? Isn't he a little…depressing for you?" Erik's eyes slightly widened at her choice in literature.

Christine wanted to say _'He reminds me of you, Erik. He was such a tortured man, knowing nothing but loneliness, hurt and death. Everyone he loved either left him, or left life. He was such a romantic gentlemen too, and thought woman were divine creatures from god. Edgar showed them respect.' _But, she wasn't sure how Erik would take that…

"I wanted to know more about this Red Death, you came to the Masque ball as." The woman half lied. "It seems this man wrote the tale. I thought I should read it. It's quite the thriller!"

"I see…" Christine looked so cute there, her skin radiating with the glow of the candlelight.

"Erik?"

Her voice had brought him back down to earth, as the phantom repositioned himself on the sofa. "Yes, Christine?"

"You know," a pause, "I wouldn't be in half as good of shape, if you weren't taking such excellent care of me. For that, I thank you dearly." Quickly, brown eyes shot down upon the yellow parchment of her novel. Christine found it very difficult to read however, for she felt as though _he_ was watching her. The little black words that created a story just seemed to become a horizontal blur in her mind.

Placing the book on her lap, Christine looked over in the direction of the lake. She blinked, looked at Erik, and stared back. "It's been awhile since I've been able to-ummm…" A forefinger placed itself on the flesh of her lips, "able to…" _'Oh, why can't I just say it?'_

"Bathe, my dear?" Erik helped out, with a slight faded blush dominating his visible cheek.

"Well, yes. I probably stink to high heaven!"

Erik smiled softly, shaking his head at such a remark.

"You can do so…" He winced, "in the lake." _'God knows how sanitary that lake water might be. I only hope my corpses have decomposed by now. Then again…how clean am I really?'_

This very thought resulted in a sniffing of clothing, very odd and peculiar to the singer, causing her to laugh a bit.

"Forgive me if I was seeing things, but were you just checking your odor?"

"I-I thought there was a rodent on me…"Erik sweat dropped, plopping back down next to her. "Maybe it would be best if I took you back to the dormitories."

"I'm not quite up to it…"

"I could carry you."

"I don't want to go back just yet." Christine stated simply. "There's water here. Why not use it?"

Erik pondered this for a moment, got up and circled the area around the bank. "You want to go in _there_?" He pointed to the dark misty depths of the aqua. "Is that right?"

She nodded.

Erik let out a deep sigh in defeat, and traveled back to her. "Let's go, then."

To tell you the truth, Christine had found it _very_ hard, not to be enjoying her way of transportation those past 14 days. In fact, she found it very _tricky_, not to let a smile creep its way across her face, in delight. She watched silently as Erik used one arm to tightly secure her body to him, and the other, to air out his cloak again, letting it naturally spread across the ground. His muscles relaxed as he placed Christine on the fabric, careful for her not to get cold. He then turned himself from her. "You can get undressed on that."

Christine obediently obeyed, trusting Erik not to look. She fastened the cloak around her, which served great purpose as a towel, and crawled over to the edge of the lake, looking deep into the mist.

"On second thought, maybe I don't need a bath…" Christine murmured.

Erik fought with himself not to look, but when he managed to catch a brief glimpse of her, from the corner of his eye, it was to his relief, that Christine was covered up. And so, he turned around and knelt down beside her. "Is something wrong?"

"It seems so deep…" She trembled. "I might sink right to the bottom!"

"And I suppose you think that you'll drown?" Erik let another sigh escape his lips. "Christine, you're not heavy enough to drown." He grinned, something Erik did rarely.

"I do not find it funny!"

"No, no of course it's not…" Erik said, regaining his composer. Yes, Christine falling to the bottom of a lake like a rock was not a laughing matter. "You don't have to worry, I'm right here. I will let nothing happen to you, Christine. Now, the sooner you get washed, the sooner I can tend to your wounds. Don't make me push you in there. I did offer to take you back for a proper washing, you know."

"You wouldn't push me in…" Christine smiled mischievously, noting how close Erik was to the water. One more inch and…

"Oh, but I would."

"But you can't…"

"And why not?"

Christine placed a hand on his chest, leaning into him, "Because…" She whispered into his ear, "You're all ready in it." Firmly but lightly, Christine applied just enough force to send Erik into the mist with a satisfying splash.

Erik popped his head out of the water, with a look of shock on his face. "You pushed me in…"

"Yes, and it was very fun in doing so." Christine laughed, watching as he pulled his wet hair out of his face. The wet sleeves of his shirt were clinging to the skin of his arms, as they floated on top of the water. "I clearly have underestimated you, my dear."

"Yes you have, Erik!" What a triumph this was to her. "Really though, are you all right?"

"Just swallowed some water…" He replied, swimming closer to her.

Christine was now on her hands and knees, gazing in at him. "I hope it wasn't too much." Her face just seemed to brighten up, with a look as if she had fallen head first into a full on type of love. Christine was far too busy admiring Erik, to even notice that he had wrapped a damp arm around her waist and had dragged her in with him.

The outcome of this was a smaller splash, a tiny yelp and a fierce hold on Erik.

"Erik! Erik!" She cried, her eyes tightly shut.

He drew her to him. "I have you, Christine. You're safe. I won't let you go…"

Christine slowly fluttered her eyelids open, and looked up into his turquoise orbs…

_I won't let you go…_

It echoed in her head.

For the first time…

Christine didn't want her freedom. He didn't _have_ to let go.

………

(Sitting on Erik's lap) Yes, Christine had her bath… I suppose. And Erik, well, he probably left. I leave it up to your imagination! Use it, its fun! Anyway, more chapters will be coming, if only you review! As much as it pains me, I will allow Erik to give out kisses to each who review.

Erik: Unless you happen to be a man. Then I must decline.


	13. A Change of Scenery

Christine: (hands covering eyes) Is it over?

Leighann: No, there's still one left to go…

Kilt Girl: Oh Errriiikk! (Runs to get her kiss)

Christine: Oh heaven! I wish it would end…

(Some painful silence)

Leighann: Erik said he's in desperate need of lip balm.

Christine: …

**Red Rose**

Chapter XIII: A Change of Scenery

**The de Chagny Mansion-**

"Raoul, I'm terribly sorry for you. I know how dearly you loved Ms. Daae."

Philippe de Chagny leaned back onto his chair, grasping the wooden arms with slight discomfort. He was much too kind to take perverted pleasure in his younger brother's suffering. Philippe only admired young Raoul, and was proud to see how successful the boy had become.

Yet Philippe watched gravely as his sibling stirred a pot of boiling soup over an open flame. A thick scent of broth filled the air, traveling swiftly into Philipee's nostrils.

"I'm surprised that your strength has returned to you so soon. I had expected months of bed rest," he sighed deeply.

"Yes, and I thank you for helping me out…"

"You are my brother, it'd be wrong not to."

Raoul continued making his lunch, refusing to stare at nothing else but its liquid contents. The past month, he had expected himself to die. Maybe, maybe he even _wanted_ to. A world of loneliness and depression was not for him. Up to the day when Philippe had taken him home from the hospital, Raoul found himself in deep thought of how someone could survive without the undying love a woman. He'd lie in his bed, pulling the covers over his eyes. Only then, would he allow his soul to drift away into darkness. Raoul still denied the fact that his joy, Christine had left him for an Angel of Doom.

As if reading his thoughts, Philippe spoke, "I can hardly bring myself to believe that such a beautiful mademoiselle has left you for an unworthy, misshapen man. It disgusts me, Raoul!" His voice seemed drained of all sympathy and was replaced with a cold annoyance. "Do you honestly think I enjoy watching you mope around all day? You've been nothing but a lifeless fool! This is complete blasphemy, I tell you!" He suddenly stood up, meeting Raoul at his side. "I want you, Raoul, to start over! Take back your life which you have so easily lost these past few weeks!"

Raoul glanced up at Philippe with glassy eyes, as if he were about to cry rivers. "My life will never be the same, do you hear? It will be a long while before Raoul de Chagny ever learns to love again! Don't you dare tell me otherwise, Philippe!"

"You talk as if there is no hope left in the world for you!"

Raoul stared at him warily. "Then perhaps there isn't!" And he continued with the stirring of his soup.

"Lies! You are only telling yourself lies!" The nobleman spat, "There are plenty of woman who seem to think of you as God himself! Raoul, who wouldn't?" He paused briefly before starting his next sentence. This one would prove a point. "At the Opera house, for instance… I have noticed many ballet girls, chorus girls, gazing at you. If I am not mistaken, Christine's friend, the ballerina, _she_ seems to have a liking for you. I have taken notice of this during our time at the Populaire."

"The Giry child? Impossible!"

Philippe grinned as he watched Raoul's flesh heat up. "Is it though?"

"You're insane!" Just as Raoul was about to scoop the steaming soup into a bowl, his spoon managed to slip quickly from his grasp and the hot agony splashed him in the face.

This caused Philippe to blink in shock, watching as his brother desperately went in search for water, to cool his burning sensation. "Raoul? Are you all right?"

There was a moan of pain.

"Shall I get you a mask?"

"It's NOT necessary!" Raoul growled, mentally cursing him.

………

_Dear Diary, _

_I've been down here now for two and a half weeks. Not to say that I'm not enjoying myself. I am, greatly. Erik has given me you, as a quicker way to pass the time. I've never had a diary before. When I was a child, I'd been traveling with father. I would have no desire to take time out of my day to record its fabulous events. But then again, what seven-year-old would want to? Now, being a woman, I have all the excitement there is, for wanting to write down my thoughts and feelings._

_To start off, I wish Erik would sleep. I've finally begun to realize that he replaces his slumber with music. Not that I'm complaining. We both know what his music does to me. I just hate seeing him look so tired at times. When Erik insists on staying up, I'd ask if I could stay up with him. He simply shakes his head, saying I need my rest._

_Same goes for him!_

_I wonder if he would take me back to the dormitories for awhile. I need to bathe again, and the lake thing didn't go too well. Once Erik stayed with me, I was a little bit more confident to clean myself. But I swear, something brushed by my foot. It felt oddly of the flesh of a human, and I could even feel his bones! My face turned pale. I was probably just imagining things. When I looked back up to Erik for reassurance, I noticed he couldn't quite meet my eyes…_

_Dormitories are much better when it comes to baths._

_Christine_

_P.S. I wouldn't mind in seeing everybody. I miss them so!_

Christine closed the diary and placed it gingerly onto her bedspread for later. It was lunch time, and any moment Erik would be flying in with something…interesting for her to eat. At times, Christine didn't even recognize the food on her plate, but choked it down with a small smile. For a genius, she would've expected better cooking skills from him.

"Christine! I bring you your lunch, same time as usual. Not a second less!" Erik glided in, the dish resting steadily on the top of his hand, and placed it in front of Christine.

She smiled thankfully, looking down at the meal. Her eyes slightly widened as Christine actually was able to properly identify her…waffles…toast…and orange juice!

"Erik! This looks delisous!" Giggling, Christine took the fork from him. The syrup, the fruit, it was all too good to be true.

And then she hesitated. "Erik…"

"Yes, mon ange?" He said as if he had possessed the innocence of a newborn child. If Erik were not the mysterious, _slightly_ naughty Opera Ghost that he was, Christine would've imagined Erik batting his eyelashes.

"Did you have assistance with the making of this lunch?"

He seemed a bit hurt at that question. "Am I not capable of making my dear some nice, pleasurable waffles?"

"No, but-"

"Can I help it if I never properly learned how to cook?" He waved a spoon in the air, as if he we making a speech.

"That's not what I said-"

"Am I a lost cause when it comes to the world of food?"

"Erik, you are a bit skin-"

The utensil flung across the room. "Skinny? Skinny? Christine, did you know that the average human being only has to eat once a day? I mean, would you prefer I was fat? I happen to be a very attractive, deformed man and-"

"_Erik_!" Christine took him by the shoulders, waiting for a calm, collected answer.

"I received help from Madame Giry…" He looked down shamefully.

She laughed. "Well now. Was that so hard? And you don't have to look so sad! I'm sure you were a good, little helper!" Christine lightly kissed his uncovered cheek.

"I helped stir the waffle batter." Erik muttered from the corner of his lips.

"Did you really? What else did you do?"

"Madame Giry yelled at me for burning the toast… I had no choice but to start over…"

"Madame Giry! I'm surprised at her!" Christine rubbed Erik's back in comfort. "You did I fine job, I'm sure of it." And taking the knife and fork once more, she sliced into the golden surface.

She took a bite of the blueberry waffle and nearly died with how heavenly it tasted.

"Christine?"

"Erik, they're wonderful!" She blushed as Erik continued to stare at her devouring his waffles baked with love.

"Then I am happy, Christine."

Taking a breath from her indulgence, Christine asked another question. "Speaking of Madame Giry, do you think you could take me back up to the dormitories…just for a bath?"

_Flashback_

"_Erik…is there something in the water?"_

"…"

"_Erik, is there?"_

"…"

"_Well, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. It's not like there's any dead bodies or anything."_

"…"

"_Erik? Erik?" _

_Silence._

"_Heaven, there is!"_

Erik blushed remembering that Christine shot out of the water like a bat out of hell, completely forgetting that she was, well…not clothed. His face automatically turned crimson.

"Erik? What's wrong?"

He shook the thought away. "I believe the dormitories would be a better environment for you, my dear. I shall take you up there myself, once you have finished your lunch, which now that I look at it, looks more like a breakfast."

"Then we'll call it a brunch…"

"All right then, brunch. Eat well, Christine. I will come back for you shortly."

And so, Erik left Christine to her waffles.

………

Christine: This chapter was a bit humorous. What did you think, Erik, Leighann?

Erik: (wrapping an arm around me) I especially enjoyed when the fop got burned by his soup. Clumsy fool.

Christine: That was actually based on a real event, Erik…

Erik: (interested) Really?

Leighann: Oh yes! Our friend Penny was making cup o' noodle soup, and managed to get herself burned. She was this close to lowering herself to a mask.

Erik: …

Leighann: (laughs nervously) It works for you though!

Christine: So you may all thank Penny for my flow of inspiration.

Erik: Review, or suffer the unfortunate fate of my Punjab lasso!

Christine: First he's kissing, now he's killing…

Leighann: Talk about mood swings…


	14. Reunions

**A/N**: Nadir and Philippe are only in the novels, not in the 2004 movie. When I was thinking about Raoul, I was wondering who would be his 'nurse' and help him recover. That's how Philippe came to mind, and helped me out with the planning of a plot. As for Nadir, I just like him, and wanted to put the Persian in here.

**Rose Rouge**

Chapter XIV: Reunions

_March 3, 1873_

_I took Christine back to the surface today. She seemed content, not over excited, as I thought she might be. After all, unlike me, she does have her friends. There is no doubt in my mind that she has missed them. _

_I handed Christine her bathrobe and watched as it perfectly enveloped her body. It framed her curves and I found myself envying the robe. Personally, I think I might have been jealous! Can you even be jealous on an inanimate piece of clothing? If I have any sanity left in me, it was lost along with these thoughts._

_After I escorted Christine to the bath, I managed to catch a glimpse of a man, standing alert and watchful, on the Opera's steps. I knew this man, very well. His skin was ebony and his hair graying with the coming of age. The Persian, Nadir! Why hadn't I recognized him sooner?_

_You might ask, why are you writing in a journal? Yes, **Journal**, my good friend. It's not a diary. Diaries are for woman purposes. A diary is what I gave Christine. No, this is not a diary. _

_Nadir saw the newspaper article a while back. He thought its headline was somewhat of a cover story for what _really_ happened to the viscount. I laughed at such a boldly stated assumption. Apparently, Nadir does not think I have given up my days as a torturer. Is torturer even a word? Well, if it is, I was never really a torturer, more of a master murderer… but that's beside the point._

_I told him that Christine had come back to me on her own accord, and that she wished to live the rest of her life, by my side. I daresay, he looked amused by that. What by god was so amusing? Perhaps he didn't believe me…_

_I was a good liar as well. _

_Nadir simply handed me a little black book, the one which I write in with a trembling hand. He informed me that if I feel the lust to kill, I simply must write down all tantrums, all rage in this bloody journal of mine! I have a strange feeling he is trying to give me some sort of therapy. _

_Fine, I will write in this ridiculous thing, but only because I want to! _

_I wait patiently for Christine to come back. God did something odd when he created the woman. He made her have an obsession with water, and having such an obsession, they bath for hours._

_Literally, I've been waiting an hour!_

_And I don't expect us to return to the cellars right away. I expect she wishes to visit some people first. That is, if her strength allows it._

_Erik_

Erik tucked the journal away behind his cloak, now unseen from view.

"Daroga, all ready I see that you have no intention in giving me a mere friendly visit. I have written in the journal, so why not leave? Christine should be out in a matter of moments. I think she would be confused to find me engaging in conversation with a man she does not know." Erik responded coldly.

"I'm sorry Erik, but I just don't know what to believe. I don't know if I can trust your words."

"I am your friend, isn't that reason enough?"

Nadir smiled. "It is good to see you Erik. But, if you really have no grudge against the Viscount de Chagny, than you will have no problem with what I'm about to tell you." An ebony hand hastily placed itself upon Erik's stiffened shoulder. "I have heard that Raoul's brother Philippe wishes to take him back to the Opera. And if you wish Ms. Daae to take her place back in the chorus, that is, once she is better, expect the Chagny to be here daily."

"_Why?_ Why is he coming back now?"

"He wants to get out, Erik. Who wouldn't want to start over? If what you say is true, he is probably looking for his next love. People our days die young, Allah knows they die young! When you see love, you simply must grab onto it." Nadir paused, "That's why I congratulate you on your success with Ms Christine Daae."

"Thank you, Daroga. Your words touch me."

"Then you will have no trouble with Raoul?" He was persistent in asking again.

"Oh, I'm sure I will, monsieur, but I shall record all my madman thoughts in this!" He pointed to the fabric which concealed his bounded pages.

Nadir laughed.

"I really must design a bathroom for my home, Daroga. My dear has been in there for quite some time."

"Then perhaps you would like me to stay with you?"

"No need, my friend. I am a patient man." Erik stood cross-armed against the walls. "I will ask the management for my twenty thousand francs, in advance. I do have my expensive tastes, Nadir. You of all people should know that."

He raised his shoulders, shrugging at the thought that Erik still received money from M. Andre and Firmin. "Yes, I know you do. …And how long will it take you to construct this room, Erik?"

"When I am motivated, I say only a few weeks. It will be beautiful: s marble bathroom, with a comforting feeling! No lingering fear of corpses showing up unexpected on a shore… they have a nasty way of coming back. Christine can relax in a bath! If I have to take Christine up _here_ every other day, I might as well go mad. I prefer if she could stay within my constant view, especially since the fop will be returning. My home is now hers."

"I see…" Nadir said dully. "You don't plan to keep her down in the dark forever, do you?"

"I am a gentleman, I would not think of caging her up like that. She has the Opera to attend to."

Nadir nodded his head in understanding. "Well Erik, you seem to have thought everything through. Now, I must take my leave. Your lady seems to be waiting with a little blonde girl." He bowed to the Phantom, and walked off down the staircase.

………

_March 3, 1873_

_That Giry child! She talks as if I were not there! Why, I was standing right next to Christine when Meg made the conclusion that I was adorably handsome. I suppose I should not be offended, and yet in an odd way, I am!_

_Would she still have the courage to look at me, if I were to rip my mask off on the spot? Somehow, I highly doubt it._

_If a deformed man is handsome, mademoiselle, I would be very curious to find out your thoughts on a face like Raoul de Chagny's! _

"_Erik, this is the first time Meg's ever had a good look at you." Christine whispered softly in my ear, as she leaned against me for support of her aching body. I realized an hour of good standing was causing her fatigue. I wanted to bring her back to bed right away. But something desperately held to my arm. _

_God, Meg Giry would follow Christine off a cliff if she desired to. She explained to me that if Christine disappeared for another two weeks, she wouldn't know what to do! Christine was her best friend and the only one she could talk to about anything._

_I could relate well to that._

_So I let them have their girlish chatter._

_And here, I wait…_

_Again._

_Raoul is here, I see. His brother is wheeling him about in a wheel-chair. Poor boy. But I must not pity the enemy. It would be rather bad if I did. In fact, I find this quite funny. Yes, I'm actually very giddy now, chipper, if you will. And the thought that Christine was not even aware of Raoul's sudden, handicapped presence, made my day!_

_She ignored him! _Completely. _Did not even glance in his direction to give a remorseful look! I can only guess that with the attempt to kill me, Christine has lost all feeling she'd once had had towards her old husband. Sadly, I can not believe this!_

_What if she only fears my reaction to her going over and saying hello? There's nothing wrong with that…right? _

_No, she doesn't fear me. I know she doesn't. I just finally have the power I've been looking for. I'd been called a thief in the past, and now I have stolen the only thing of which I pathetically longed to possess._

_I have finally stolen her heart. _

_Erik_

………

Christine: I love writing these 'Erik Entries!'

Erik: …

Christine: What is it, Erik?

Erik: If I had not known any better, I'd have guessed it was _I_ writing the entries…

Christine: (laughs) I'll take that as a compliment!

Erik: (takes me into his arms) No one likes a debtor, it's better if my orders are obeyed!


	15. Dinner Arrangements

Sorry I haven't updated it _so_ long! Please have mercy on me! I don't want to open my eyes to find a Punjab lasso tied around my neck. I've actually was trying to think of a plot! I like my fluff and all, but I miss Erik's mysterious, sometimes angry, personality!

INTERESTING NOTE: Penny just told me something I thought was rather funny. When she was first reading 'Rose Rouge', she was reading Erik's letters to the managers, not understanding what 'O.G.' meant:

Penny: Why is he signing all his letters with, 'Oh God?' I don't get it! 'Fondly yours, Oh God!' It doesn't make any sense! Who signs their letters like that!

It was only until chapter 8 that she figured out it meant Opera Ghost. I still can't believe she missed that. But I was cracking up when she confessed. I thought it was worth mentioning

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

And I don't want the world to see me

Cuz I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

Iris, Goo Goo Dolls

Rose Rouge

Chapter XV: Dinner Arrangements

"It seems so dreadfully hot today, doesn't it Christine?" Meg groaned, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her left ear.

"I'm glad Mama cancelled lessons. The heat in here would be unbearable!" She replied, slipping off her ballet shoes, and placing them to the side.

"What are you going to do to pass the time, then?" Christine asked.

Meg shook her head, "I don't know. Check up on the others, maybe. Mother's never been one to miss out on a lesson." She cupped her heated cheeks in both hands.

"I'd love to stay with you, but I must admit, Erik's cool catacombs seem like heaven, at the moment." Christine smiled teasingly. Meg laughed back, before noticing a wheel chair coming their way. The two girls went silent.

"Please, don't stop talking on my account." Raoul replied, more so looking at Meg than Christine.

Christine was inwardly pleading for something unexpected to happen. She wouldn't mind another chandelier crashing, but then again, that might be a little bit too dramatic. Little Jammes noticed such a dilemma, and offered Christine a hand back to her dressing room. Kindly, Christine accepted, without as much as a word good-bye.

Meg hesitated before saying a polite hello. She promised herself that Meg would not socialize with Raoul de Chagny, not after his outburst with his former wife.

His eyes were twinkling merrily, and there was a smile on Raoul's face. "Hello, Ms Giry. Hot this afternoon, isn't it?"

"Ye-yes, it is?" She responded shakily, as Raoul offered her a handkerchief from his coat pocket.

Meg took it reluctantly, her hand trembling. Noting that Raoul was watching her intently, she quickly blotted her damp face.

"Meg, may I ask you something?" The viscount said, shyly.

Eyelashes batted. A nobleman? Actually noticing her? "Of-of course, Monsieur, anything."

"Would you," he gulped, "care to go to dinner with me tonight?"

Meg felt terrible. Denying a crippled man just felt wrong, but the ballerina had to focus on Christine. No doubt her friend feel odd if Meg agreed to going out with Raoul. Turning her back toward him, she replied, "I'm sorry Monsieur…I can't"

His face fell. "But why not?"

"I'm not feeling well in this heat. It is quite unbearable. I was hoping I would start to feel better during the day, maybe it would get cooler, but it's only gotten worse. I'm sorry."

Raoul looked heartbroken. She could sense he had been really looking forward to her delighted acceptance. No one ever seemed to deny a Chagny. Meg realized Philippe scrunch up his nose in annoyance. He tightened his grip on the wheel chair's handle bars to hold in such rage.

Raoul looked so upset that Meg betrayed her better judgment and spatted out, "I'm free tomorrow night, if you wish." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Christine would be angry, she'd have a right to be angry, but Meg was only doing this out of pity, wasn't she?

"Really? Oh, I look forward to it, Meg!"

Philippe relaxed his hold.

"Yes, I do too…" She bent down to pick up her slippers, and nodded to the Chagny's. "'Till tomorrow." And she fled off to the dressing rooms.

"_Christine!_" She knocked loudly on the door. She then realized Christine wasn't able to walk on her own yet, and muttered words of shame to herself. Jammes creaked open the entrance and glared at her, rudely. Meg bowed her head before brushing across the body and locking the door.

"Christine!"

Christine caught an exhausted yawn with her hand. "What is it Meg?"

"Oh Christine, please don't be angry with me!" Meg rushed to her feet. "I couldn't help it, I feel horrible."

Christine looked down at her friend, a feeling of concern washing over her. "Meg, have I ever been mad at you?"

She averted the soprano's gaze, "If not, you will be."

Christine made a soft giggle, "For what?"

"Christine! I've made dinner arrangements with Raoul!" Meg cried, close to tears.

Ms Daae blinked, not comprehending this at first. "What?"

"I'm _so_ sorry!"

"Meg…you can't…I won't let you…" She replied, breathlessly.

Meg understood her reaction. Oh, why did she say yes?

"I'd-I'd have to see him almost every day! You can't do that to me!" Christine shrieked. She watched Meg embrace the bottom of her dress. "Meg!"

"I know, I know! To be honest, why would he want me? I'm nothing special; I have no relation with him."

Christine didn't say anything.

"Christine, I know what you're feeling-"

"No," she spoke softly, "you don't know. You might understand, but you don't _know_…" Christine looked out the glass of the small window above her bed, gazing into the blazing red sun. "Please Meg, just go. I'm tired. I need to rest."

The Giry child obeyed, slowly exiting, and turning back to look at her. "I'm sorry…"

……….

Erik's eyes flashed behind the mirror. What did Christine care if Meg went out with the viscount? She had him, didn't she? His leather covered fingers turned the latch on the mirror door and stepped in.

………

Sorry it's so short. I just thought the next part should be an entirely different chapter, one where Erik's a tiny bit angry!


	16. Rage

**Rose Rouge**

Chapter XVI: Rage

"Erik!" Christine went pale, watching as Erik savagely thrust open the mirror.

"I _trusted_ you! I trusted you to treat me like a civilized human being!" He spoke, an angelic voice now seeming as though it belonged to the devil himself. "I believed you when you said you loved me! Clearly, I am no genius, my dear. For if I was, I would not have fallen for such a poor lie!" Erik grabbed Christine by the wrist and began to drag her through the passage ways. "And here I thought you loved me, loved _me_!"

"Erik, You-you were listening?" Her voice shook, realizing that Erik was a bit more than just mad.

"Please, please, don't be angry with me!" Christine managed to say. She fled behind Erik (or rather tried too, she couldn't quite walk as it was) until her feet tripped over one another, causing her to fall to her knees. Erik just stared down at her, coldly.

"Angry…_angry? _Why should I be angry? I've only found out that you still care for the Victome!"

"Where did you ever get an idea like that?" Christine trembled.

"Do you mistake me for a fool? Why else would you care if that Meg child attended dinner with the fop? There is only one obvious reason! Because you still care for him, you ignorant child!

"That's NOT true!"

Erik started walking away from her. Christine couldn't believe it; he was going to leave her in the catacombs. Christine was helpless and lost as it was. She would have absolutely no clue how to get back to the dressing rooms. This was too much! Erik was honestly afraid that he would hurt her if he continued to let his rage loose and become the untamed mess he used to be.

"Really?" he sneered. "Then would you care to give me an explanation as to why you were so upset with this dinner engagement?" Erik swung around to face her, eyes blazing with both pain and hatred, a deadly combination.

"I didn't want—"

"You didn't want what?" He spat, spraying the air with his saliva. "You didn't want _what_?"

"How would you feel? How would you feel if your best friend was having a relationship with someone you just want out of your past? Don't you think that I'd like to move on, that I'd like to start a new life with you?"

Christine's tears turned cold, dripping down her rosy cheeks. She continued to gain her courage back although trying her best not to yell. What couldn't he understand?

"Wouldn't you just feel awkward, having to see that person everyday? My life will never be the same. Raoul will be following me, watching me. Everywhere Meg goes he will go too. So I ask you again Erik, how would you feel?"

Erik blinked, somewhat taken aback by Christine's sudden explosion He blinked a second time, trying to realize her point of view. But all Erik could think about was that ridiculous thought that he had stolen her heart.

'_What if she only fears my reaction to her going over and saying hello? There's nothing wrong with that…right?' _

Erik bit down on his lip until he tasted blood. There _was_ something wrong with that, very wrong. Even that simple 'hello' would be enough to drive a certain phantom off a cliff, and he was all ready walking close to the edge. No matter how much he tried to deny it, Erik would forever be a rival.

'_No, she doesn't fear me. I know she doesn't…'_

Christine had yelled at him, but did she really not fear him? Erik was having doubts as he watched Christine slowly crawl closer to his feet, as though she was only daring to arouse him and his undying anger, an anger which had been locked up and sealed away in a weakening cage for so long.

'_I have finally stolen her heart.' _

And the cage's door was about to burst open.

"I'm not a very good thief _now_, am I?" He growled, squeezing her hand again and bringing Christine onto her legs.

………

"Stay in there! Stay in there and don't you dare come out until I say so!" Erik pushed her into her bedroom and slammed shut the door. Christine's eyes widened as she listened to the clicking of locks.

"Erik! Why are you behaving this way?" She grasped the brass knob, banging on the door.

"My dear, this is how I've always acted!" He shouted from the other side.

"Why have you locked me in here?" Christine sobbed, cradling her head in her hands. "Let me out, Erik! I've done nothing wrong!"

Erik didn't answer as he walked over and took a seat upon his pipe organ bunch.

'…_her heart'_

He slammed his fist onto the keys and moaned.

………

_I've broken another mirror. I honestly can't tell you why. Frustrated, I suppose. The pieces of glass are still strongly embedded within my skin. I don't want to bother in removing them. I'm just glad I've taken my rage out on the mirror, and not the child. I don't feel much physical pain anymore… _physical_, that is. I've muttered many curses in the hours I have banished Christine to her chamber. I only did that because I was afraid of what I might to do her if I kept her around me. But, I also didn't want Christine on the surface, for reasons we both know. So now that I've taken the time to consider what Christine has said, perhaps she is right. I wouldn't want to see Nadir if he had somehow manipulated Christine into going out with him. Although, I don't quite know why Nadir would ever do such a thing. I WOULD kill him! _

_Meg Giry, I don't know what you see in a man as distasteful as Monsieur de Chagny._

_My hands throb a bit. It's become somewhat difficult to write._

_Time to let Christine out of her room. _

_Erik_

………


	17. Forgiveness

Red Rose

Chapter XVII: Forgiveness

((A/N: Part of this chapter has an excerpt that came out of "Phantom" by Susan Kay. I just want to give that credit to her.))

_I've been in here for god knows how long. Time seems to pass painfully slow when you're forbidden to go anywhere else rather than your room. Do I have a choice? I've been locked up! If I could just occupy myself, maybe then, time would speed up and be a bit kinder to me. _

_I'd forgotten how mad Erik can get. It frightens me. Only a while before did I hear the smashing of glass; I only hope he hasn't hurt himself. My head is leaned up against the door, waiting to hear the movement outside my chamber. The movement that could possibly walk over and unlock the chains that prevent me from being free. But I hear nothing. Nothing but _silence

_My head has turned to the floor as I have noticed the most gigantic spider I have ever laid eyes on. It's huge, ugly and it's fangs make me quiver… _

Christine frowned, halfway through her writing. Her bottom lip trembled, as she pulled her left hand desperately from off the floor.

**Flashback** (revised and out of "Phantom")

_"What is it?" Erik demanded in alarm, closing the door softly behind him.  
_

_Unable to speak, Christine simply pointed to the creepy crawler and he laughed as he went over to her bed.  
_

_"I'm afraid we get a lot of these down here. He is a big fellow, isn't he? I suppose his mate is in here somewhere too."  
_

_"Oh, God!" She said with feeling, glancing nervously across the floor. "Do you really think so?"  
_

_"They're usually found in twos," Erik said absently, bending to catch the hideous thing gently in his hands. "When I've put this one out I'll come back and look, if you wish."  
_

_Christine stared at him in horror. Her mouth would've dropped to the floor if it could.  
_

_"You're only going to put it out? Won't it just come back?"  
_

_"That's not very likely, my dear. "  
_

_"But it might, " She persisted stubbornly. "Erik, I would die of fright if one crept over me while I was asleep. I've always been terrified of spiders. I'd feel so much happier if you just . . . well, just got rid of it permanently."  
_

_He stiffened, and when he turned to look at Christine there was something in his eyes which made her shiver.  
_

_"You want me to kill it?" he said expressionlessly.  
_

_"If—if you don't mind," Christine stammered, suddenly unnerved by the pulsing venom of his gaze.  
_

_"Oh, I don't mind at all," he said with an anger that was now unmistakable.  
_

_"I rather think the spider might have one or two objections to make—but then; after all, it's only a spider, isn't it? Just a mindless, soulless, ugly thing that has no right to live and frighten people!"_

_Without another word he clenched his fist tightly, dropped the crushed insect on the carpet, and walked out of the room.  
_

_"Erik!" Christine cried after him, in alarm. "What about the other one?"  
_

_"Kill it yourself, if you can find it!" he said coldly, and shut the door on her with a savage bang._

**End Flashback **(and excerpt)

Christine shook her head, trying to rid herself of such an _angry_ memory. She then placed her hand back on the floor, which gave her the necessary support she used to lean on, and began to scribble down and explore her deepest thoughts.

_Just a mindless, soulless, ugly thing that has no right to live and frighten people…_

_Just a mindless, soulless, ugly thing that has no right to live and frighten people…_

_Whether or not Erik believes it, that statement did stick with me. I knew who he was referring to. Himself. It makes me sad to think in such a horrible frame of mind, but I am still terrified of spiders. When I was little, I'd scream it I just caught a glance of one. Father would always be so comforting and dispose of it right away, but now I just feel guilty. The spider, like Erik said, is only an innocent creature minding it's own business. It lives and carries on with it's everyday life. Perhaps it is ugly, but that's not something it can help. And…and what if you're allergic to spiders? What if you swell up every time one bit you? Would that still give you the permission to kill it? Would you still feel horrible? All I know is, I can never look at a spider the same way again._

The pen dropped and Christine closed the book. She looked at the spider, sitting next to her like a close friend. But the truth was, the spider was probably more afraid of her, than she was if it. It crawled an inch closer to her, reluctant and yet full of curiosity for her reaction. The singer wanted to squirm away, but thought the better of it and remained where she was. Eventually, it got to the point where the spider was resting in her palm, and although she wished more than anything to fling it off, she remained calm. Christine wanted to prove to herself that being ugly didn't have to do with anything. It was the type of person—or spider—you were that mattered.

The lock clicked open but Christine didn't seem to hear it. Erik walked into the room, and froze in mid step as he realized Christine was _playing_ with the spider.

"Apparently, I've locked you up in this room for too long, my dear." Erik looked absolutely flabbergasted as he watched Christine's delicate little fingers almost play tag with the insect. First it would shoot one foot away from her, then it would be one inch next to her, and she was _laughing._

"Oh Erik, don't be silly!" She replied, gently poking the spider again, arousing it. It lept onto her hand and refused to let go for quite some time. Then it scurried away into some dark corner of the room which was not visible to Christine's eyes. She smiled and looked back up at Erik. Her smile quickly vanished, both because she was anxious to know if Erik was still furious with her and also because Christine noted the horribly bandaged hands that Erik hand just threw on himself. Obviously, he thought this wouldn't worry her.

"Erik! You didn't! You didn't smash another mirror! I hoped that was only my mind playing tricks on me!" Ms Daae wobbled onto her feet and ran as best as she could to the doorway. "You've gotten yourself seriously hurt!" She yelped, concerned. Christine brought the covered hand to her cheek and stroked it.

"Christine, I-" Erik tried to say, blushing furiously for once and sick with himself that he was acting girly and somewhat foppish.

"You have to let me take care of you! How am I supposed to do that if you lock me away in a room all day? I know you were angry Erik, I understand that now. You didn't want me to get hurt! But even if you did hurt me, I know you wouldn't mean it!" She carefully placed his throbbing hands around her tiny waist. "Yes, it still bothers me that Meg is going to dinner with Raoul, but who knows if it will work out. And even if it were to, it wouldn't matter because I have you!" Christine sobbed freely into his shirt, which made Erik smile softly down at her.

"And you figured this out all in an hour or two?" He cooed, making her weak in the knees.

"An hour or two? It seemed like forever!" She complained like a child.

"Christine," He laughed merrily, "I've been doing some thinking as well, and I understand your feelings about such a situation between a best friend and a husband-"

"X-Husband" Christine politely corrected him.

"Well, either way, I finally understand how you feel. It took me awhile, but when I put Nadir and myself in the same situation-"

"Who's Nadir?"

Erik chuckled again. "A friend, my dear. I'm sure you will meet him."

Christine nodded; unaware that Erik even had friends. That seemed a little harsh; to think that Erik didn't have any friends, but what would he do with one? Sit around a big square table while drinking tea and talking about the latest trend in killing devices? She hardly thought so. Erik was still stuck on the Punjab lasso… (There's guns now)

"All I am saying, Christine, is that I understand where you are coming from. Sometimes I wonder if I really am a genius."

"Of course you are Erik. After all, you chose me to fall in love with. That _only_ proves that you are unbelievably smart." Christine gave him a playful wink, very much unlike her.

"Well-I-uhh-"

"Come on! I must tend to your wounds! They could easily get infected." Her smile widened as she pulled him out of the doorway and towards her bed to rest. "You lie here and I'll show you the proper way to take care of yourself! Now, I'll be back in a minute. I have the strange urge to make you some tea…"

"Christine…"

……………………

Christine: Oh look, Erik was at a loss for words! ((Snuggles into him))

Penny: I'd kill the spider…

Christine: PENNY!

Penny: What? I'm only telling the truth! And plus, what weirdo plays with a spider?

Christine: ….. ((Blush))

Erik: ((defending me)) That only shows she cares… Unlike you, mademoiselle!

Penny: I feel hated…

Erik: No one likes a debtor! It's better if my orders are obeyed! Review and I will make sure that I give each of you a mini Erik plushie!

Phangirls: ERIK PLUSHIES!

One phanboy: YES! My dream has come true! ERIK! I 'heart' you!

Erik, Christine and Penny: O.o;;


	18. A Little Favor

Rose Rouge

Chapter XVII: Little Favor

As they ate, they sat in silence. And silence was better when you enjoyed the simple presence of your company. Silence was comfortable, or uncomfortable. It often depended on the person you shared it with.

Meg picked at her food, sliding the vegetables to one corner of her plate. "I'm glad I'm here, Raoul." She spoke, shattering the silence that lingered between them.

Raoul nodded and took a sip from his drink. What could he even imagine to say? Raoul was always the shy type.

They dined under the dark indigo sky. It swirled with tiny beams of light radiating from the stars. He exhaled a sigh, Raoul used to enjoy beautiful nights such as these with Christine. A soft breeze fanned his cheek and he sighed again. He couldn't get his mind off her. No matter how much the victome tried to, her image followed him everywhere he went. This caused a sharp feeling of guilt to wash over him, as Raoul looked at Meg.

"Your brother seems to care for you a lot." She said, staring up into the clear heavens.

"He does, and I am grateful for all he has taught me, especially when I was a child." A weak smile broke out onto Raoul's face. Nevertheless, it caused Meg to blush.

"What did you do as a child?"

Raoul seemed to be thinking very deeply about this. He hadn't really engaged in any childhood games, no memories of playing hide-n-seek in the backyard, no friends coming over to celebrate birthdays, or coming over just to have a good time. His father was always busy with work. Philippe usually kept him company and talked to Raoul about the family business. Raoul explained this to Meg. He told her that being a nobleman took up most of his time. He had responsibilities to learn and found it hard to have any real fun while being a kid.

The part where Christine become untwined within his memories, Raoul decided to skip. Although, he did mention going to the beach a few times.

Meg gave him a soft smile and continued eating. She already had guessed that Raoul was too caught up in thoughts, to even ask about her own life. And well, her life was pretty much set ever since the day she was born. A ballerina, living in an opera house haunted by a resident ghost.

But Raoul and her shared at least one thing in common. Meeting Christine was one of the happiest moments that had ever accrued in their lives. Meg knew that. But she also knew that Raoul was not yet over Christine, and wondered if he ever would be. She was _his_ true love, after all. Wishing and waiting for Raoul to suddenly fall in love with Meg was too much for her to hope for. And yet, the little Giry had the strange feeling that she shouldn't be with Raoul anyway, on the count of how it was affecting Christine.

Raoul frown at her. "I'm sorry. I'm not being a very good gentleman, am I? We have hardly talked!"

"No, it's fine. I'm having a delightful time!" She smiled.

The Victome brightened a bit, smiling back. It was nice how Meg was pretending to enjoy herself, even when all Raoul could think about was the sickening feeling of Erik's arms held tightly around his wife.

Well, she wasn't anymore…

Raoul wasn't going to let his life waste away while waiting to be visited by the ghost of Christine. A ghost... A ghost...

Oh, the irony of it all.

Raoul pushed it aside and gently placed a trembling hand over Meg's. This caused her to twitch slightly. He hadn't noticed before, but Meg was equally beautiful from Christine. The moon-light shone upon her golden hair. She looked like she was glowing, an angel from above. As much as Raoul longed for Ms Daae back, he wondered if he would be alone forever, and have no desire to do so. He starting chattering merrily, that little twinkle returning to his blue eyes.

Raoul asked about her family, and when Meg replied that her father had died just before she was born, he went to comfort her in words. She told him that her mother never chose to marry again. Taking care of a daughter and running a ballet was hard enough to do. Finding a man in the process? Next to impossible!

"It's all right, though. I never really pictured Mama as the romantic, 'I long for a husband' type. She's very compassionate about her work. We have to follow instructions perfectly; otherwise Mama can get very strict." An inhale of breath, "being as devoted as she is, I always figured that I wouldn't be getting a father. That made me sad. Christine told me such wonderful things about hers…"

Raoul shivered. "Let's not talk about these…depressing subjects."

She went quiet again, knowing what he was thinking about, and took another small sip of tea from her cup. When Meg looked up again, she noticed Raoul had a particle of food on his face that she couldn't help but laugh sweetly.

"It seems you missed your mouth." Unfolding her napkin, Meg gently wiped it off from the corner of his lips. Raoul felt the blood rush to his face as he nodded in thanks. He liked the child-like essence of her laugh. Perhaps this was going to be a good night after all.

xxxxx

Christine looked at herself in the mirror. She never was someone to evaluate herself, but on this day, she wanted to. She couldn't help but think about Raoul and Meg, what she looked like, what they were doing. At her own pace, Christine softly shut the bedroom door and undressed in front of the glass. Her petite body was filled out in all the right places, breasts softly rounded and stomach flat. All in all, Christine was perfect.

A deep sigh. Christine slowly shook her head. She walked, or more so shuffled, to the closet and selected a dress similar to the one she had been wearing in 'Don Jaun.' Once she did that, Christine slipped it on, neglecting the corset for the thousandth time.

Next came the make-up. A little blush, a light touch of massacre, she did not need much. Christine combed her hair neatly and went to the mirror again.

She looked good. The fabric framed her body nicely, the make-up brought out her eyes. Christine was pleased. She unlocked the door and walked out to have herself escorted to the table by Erik.

"I hope you're hungry, my dear." He smiled at her.

"Yes, I am." She replied without glancing up to look at him. Erik knew her well enough to know what she was thinking about. He halted, holding Christine tightly to his chest.

"They're having a horrible time, I am sure. There is no need to worry, Christine." He kissed the top of her hair. His lips were soon replaced by his graceful fingers running themselves softly through brown curls.

Christine felt despicable. Did she really want her friend to have an awful time? She started to tremble. This worried Erik...

xxxxx

"No!"

"But, daroga!"

"I said no, Erik!" Nadir replied angrily.

It had been twenty minutes after dinner was served. Christine cuddled up on the sofa to flip through a book of poetry which had been read and memorized so many countless times before. Erik had told her that he would be back in a matter of moments, and that he was going out. There was some business to attend to.

"I will not, Erik! This is not my way!" Nadir said. "I cannot follow Monsieur Chagny and Ms Giry all over the place. Not only is it _stalking_-"

"I am not asking you to stalk! Simply tell me every detail that happens between the two. Is that difficult for you, Nadir? I thought you were capable of this."

'_Sounds a great deal like stalking to me.' _Nadir thought as his black eyes narrowed on his friend. "And what would you do if I told you that they were having a wonderful time? What would you do then?"

Erik smirked. "Then it shall, sooner or later, end. All good things end at some point, do they not?"

The Persian huffed. "You plan to get rid of them, don't you?"

"You fool, of course not! Meg Giry is a close friend to Christine!" He sounded irritated by this.

"What of Raoul, then?"

"It is useless to fret! Just be sure that you tell me all that you know, and I promise I won't kill him." Erik quickly spat, watching Nadir shrug.

"All right," he responded both hesitantly and reluctantly, "but if anything happens-"

Erik cut him off from his sentence. "You're wasting your time, daroga! I must get back to Christine. Can I trust you to do this for me?"

Nadir let out a defeated sigh. "Yes, Erik. I will do as you ask."


	19. Question Part I

A/N: Oh my goodness! How long has it been since I've updated this story? I'm so sorry! I'd give you the invitation to Punjab me, but then you'd have no author. To be honest, I'm still in a rut, with major writer's block. And I'm scared to make this story 'passionate' for two main reasons: One, my teachers and parents some how ended up reading it, and two: I'm afraid to get kicked off So we'll see what happens! Now where did I leave off…?

Chapter XIX: Question

"_Yes, Erik. I will do as you ask."_

Nadir seethed with anger as he slipped out of the opera house, unseen. Why had he agreed to this? He exhaled a sigh and stuffed his ebony hands deep into his coat pockets.

So, now what? Should he go to find them? Nadir took a seat on the Opera House steps, wondering just how, what exact moment, had Erik become his friend?

But his thoughts were very soon interrupted by the clomping of horse hooves on the Parisian streets. Nadir scurried off into the shadows, his black eyes fixed upon the carriage.

The door swung open, followed by an older man, who seemed to be setting up a wheelchair of some sorts. Philippe paused before pushing down the foot plate. He looked around uneasily, and then proceeded with what he'd been doing.

"What's wrong, Philippe?" A voice called from inside the carriage.

"Never you mind, brother." Philippe reached inside and offered Raoul his hand, then promptly patted the wheelchair for him to sit.

Raoul gave him a nod of thanks and then saddened as he watched Meg hop out of the carriage without the kind of gentlemanly help a lady deserved.

Seeing the expression of guilt sketched plainly across his face, Meg gently put her hand over the Victome's and smiled. "Oh Raoul, I really did have a wonderful time."

His features softened. "Perhaps, maybe another dinner?"

Nadir listened intently to the couple's conversation, from behind buildings. He watched as Meg stared down at her feet, shifting from one foot to the other. It seemed as though she was a little girl, daring to glance at a boy who she thought she liked. But, what she truly was thinking of was how to politely turn down Raoul's request.

She took a chance, and met his eyes. For the first time that evening, they sparkled with hope.

For a second time, Meg's answer betrayed her thoughts.

"Of course, Monsieur, I'd like that very much."

xxxxx

Christine poured Erik another cup of tea and placed the kettle on the stove for later. She returned to the sofa quickly, and took a seat directly next to him.

"I've been thinking," She whispered into Erik's neck, I haven't been very fair to you the past three days, have I?"

"I choose not to answer that." He answered firmly, taking a giant swig of his tea.

"I'm sorry, Erik. I've been acting like such a child. I still _am _a child…" Christine chuckled a weak laugh. "I can't even understand why someone would like me, let alone, love me, as much as you do."

At this, Erik placed down his cup, and drew her tightly to him. "What do you mean, my dear?"

"Well," She buried one side of her face into his shirt, "I'm so naïve, and…and I get myself into situations because of that. I just get so confused at times," she felt her eyes tearing and swore to herself that she would not shed another one, "I always feel I make the wrong decisions and I just wish…for one moment, maybe I could be as mature as the people around me."

"Christine…" Erik ran his fingers through her curls, "You have grown up. Believe me when I tell you this."

"Just because I was once blessed with a child, does not mean I have grown up. Being a woman instead of a girl means nothing…" She murmured.

Erik took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Is this what you wish to talk about? Christine, you don't deserve to bring upon yourself more pain."

His deep blue eyes shown with anguish, as she continued to meet his gaze.

"If I had chosen you those couple years ago, I'd be sitting here joyously with a baby kicking in my stomach, and that baby would not be Raoul's."

He felt numb. What could Erik possibly say to that?

…No, he knew what to say, because it haunted him ever since Christine had returned. It twisted his insides to the point where Erik thought he would surely vomit.

"_That _was a childish remark." He muttered, as Christine batted her eyelashes in surprise. He continued, "Have you ever considered of what the out come may be…if you…if we were to conceive a child? What would happen if half its face was, literally my dear, the face of an angel, and half…" He slowly placed his left hand to the mask which still obscured his misshapen self. "The torment he or she would face…the cruelty which is so strongly harbored in this world!"

Christine took his face in her hands. "Do you honestly think I would care? I love you…" She slowly took the corner and removed the mask, "…because of you, and not what your outer appearance may be. What makes our child, should we have one, any different? Please Erik, don't think such things!" She then started tenderly kissing each part of his deformed face, careful not to miss one inch of a spot. Christine noticed Erik's cheeks were wet, and wasn't sure if that was from his tears, or her own. They mingled together, and dripped from each others faces. Before the other one knew it, they were sharing a lover's kiss, a passionate kiss, which set an awakening, burning fire in the soul. Oh, thank god. Christine was afraid she would never be able to rekindle it.

They parted, but reluctantly and only because the average human being needs to breathe in order to continue living.

"I'm yours," Christine smiled shyly, flushed. "I belong to you…"

"Christine! I have you! I finally have you!" He gasped through his sobs, holding her tighter.

"…Erik?"

"Yes, mon ange?" He replied, feverishly giving her kisses.

"Will you marry me?"

xxxxx

WOW! I finished this chapter, even though I had writer's block!

Erik: ….

Christine: Erik? Is something the matter?

Erik: …It's so beautiful! (holds me in a tight embrace)

Christine: (muttering while blushing immensely) I have to write an Erik/OC…

Erik: Review, my friends!


	20. Question Part II

**HUGH HAS LEFT 10/1/05**

And the Music of the Night has died.

(mourns)

xxxxxxxx

"Erik? Did…did you hear me?" Christine placed a hand on Erik's shoulder voluntary.

Feeling the pressure of her hand on him, Erik shivered. He could feel his mouth slightly agape; his eyes widen a bit, and rightfully failed in producing words.

"E-Erik?" Christine licked her lower lip nervously. "Are you all right?"

He blinked. "…What did you say, my dear?" Erik gave her hand a gentle squeeze as he lowered it from his right shoulder.

"I…I asked if you were all right." Christine stammered, feeling as though her heart was about to pound right out of her chest.

He shook his head. "No. No, before that…"

"Oh…" Her gaze dropped down to the hem of her dress. "I…I asked if you would marry me." She could feel every ounce of blood rush to her cheeks.

Erik placed his index finger underneath Christine's chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Then I wasn't imagining things?"

"No, you weren't."

Erik just stared into her wide brown eyes for a moment. "I have no ring to offer you," he spoke lowly.

Confusion sparkled in her brown orbs. Had she not given Erik back his ring the day Christine had left with Raoul? Did Erik dispose of it out of depression or possibly rage? At that thought, Christine felt her heart sting with pain.

Erik's facial expression softened. "Ma chérie, what you are thinking is entirely incorrect. I did not discard of your ring. Your ring is a possession in which only you can own. I had left it with the rose I had secretly placed within your belongings the day you had left. It was only right for you to cast it aside once noticed."

"N-no! I never noticed! Erik, I honestly never noticed you had placed it there!"

"It does not matter." He whispered into the tiny hairs of her neck. "I am not upset. However, I will be firm in telling you that this cannot be."

"What? What cannot be?" Christine gasped, feeling an intense sexual desire wash over her body.

"I believe it is the man's duty to ask a woman to wed him," Erik grinned with satisfaction.

"And where exactly does it say that?" Christine murmured as she leaned backward into him. "Not in any book I've read…"

"It is an unwritten rule." Erik murmured to her as he swept his hands along the flawless curves of her figure, before slowly embracing her at the waist.

As a response, Christine cuddled further into him.

"Christine…" Erik took in the sweet smell of her, "would you be my bride?"

She smiled softly in his arms, "Yes, mon ange, I would want nothing more."

xxxxxx

The news of Christine and Erik was to be kept a secret; for fear that it might start unnecessary publicity. It was difficult not being able to tell Meg, or any of the other girls for that matter. Christine resumed her old place as a chorus girl, trying her best to avoid Raoul at all costs.

The newest production that year was the delightful yet tragically romantic tale of Romeo and Juliet. Christine wished more than anything that she could play the lead role. It was as if she had never left. However, M. Andre and Firmin were a bit reluctant to let Christine try out for the part, for they had a deadly fear that if they were to cast a more suitable singer for Juliet—not that there was one, La Carlotta was long gone and she never had an ounce of talent to begin with—that Monsieur le Opera ghost would have a few complaints to take up with the managers. And there were far too many things in the Opera House that could look as if it were only a mere accident.

Erik, being as clever as he is, used the situation to his advantage and left some 'friendly' notes on their desks while the two were out taking a puff of their cigarettes.

Firmin let Christine try out the following day.

Plans for the wedding were made in between Christine's now hectic schedule. Nadir happily agreed to marry them. It was certainly a step up from spying on a pair of lovers, which, I might add, were hardly lovers, at all.

"Do you have a date set?" Nadir smiled at the couple.

"No, not yet." Erik said, offering him a glass of red wine.

"Thank you." Nadir took a swig of his drink and rested in on the table. "Allah, mademoiselle, you look like the happiest woman in the world. I feel blessed to be the one marrying you."

"You will be marrying us in a church, won't you monsieur?" She asked, looking around at the cellar as she said this.

"If Erik will permit it," he nodded, "then yes, my lady."

Erik pushed aside the fact that he wasn't very religious, and was certainly not a strong believer in God, but turned towards Christine and answered,

"Whatever you wish, my dear. I'd do anything for you."

xxxxxxxx

Not so pleased with this chapter. All I ask is that I have at least 275 reviews to update. And don't worry, this story has a good three or four chapters to go.

Christine


	21. Point of No Return

Penny: Christine wants me to give this WARNING! This Chapter contains a lemon!

Christine: Probably a very bad lemon (since it's my first time really writing one), but a lemon nonetheless! Read at own risk!

Erik: ...

Christine: Yes, my love?

Erik: A lemon is just a fruit. I fail to see how a lemon is dangerous...

Christine: (blushes) Not...dangerous...

Penny: Oh boy...

Xxxxxx

Christine pouted her lower lip in an adorably cute fashion.

"I just find this all too difficult to keep a secret," she murmured daintily to her vanity mirror. The calming motion of her brush gently combing through soft brown locks of hair, had seemed to render Christine powerless to its hypnotic trance.

"I believe that was your wish to keep our engagement a secret, although I cannot imagine why..."

Christine placed down the brush and sighed. "You know perfectly well 'why'", she replied, peering beyond her own reflection and to the man who stood cross-armed against the dressing room walls.

"Then, my angel, you are quite the indecisive one, aren't you? Torn between telling, which is in my opinion, joyous news, or sparing the Victome's feelings." Erik's brow furrowed. Soon, Christine could hear the rustling of a cloak sway across the floor, as Erik took a place beside her. "Let's not forget that you are still married."

Christine got up from her seat and pushed past Erik to her bed, where she focused on straightening out the covers. "Since when have you ever cared if I am married or not, Erik?" A small, unfriendly chuckle fled her mouth. Then, Daae continued speaking in a matter-of-factly tone, "For your information, Raoul and I are officially no longer together. I don't need a document to finalize things. It is not Raoul I am worried to tell our engagement to."

"Then who?" Erik asked.

"He brother is not very fond of me. He never really was, actually." Christine sat herself on the foot of the bed and stared down at her lap. "Noblemen aren't supposed to marry women of a lower class..."

Gently Erik kneeled down in front of her and, without hesitation, laid a hand on her shoulder. "Do you truly care what the brother-of-a-fop thinks of you?"

Christine met his eyes, staring at him for a good moment, before breaking into uncontrollable laughter.

Erik blinked, now clearly confused. "What, Christine, is so...funny?" He could feel his cheeks burn with a hot embarrassment as he continued to watch his fiancée beam.

"I...I just find it so...so..._interesting_ as to how you can be so serious and yet so entertaining at the same time!" Christine giggled, placing a hand over her mouth. "Brother-of-a-fop, what an excellent title to give Philippe!"

"I only assumed that you rather disliked when I called Raoul a fop."

"Yes, well, now the term is growing on me." She answered in between her gasps for air.

"Then, I'm glad you enjoyed your little fit, my dear." Erik smirked, as he lied next to Christine, their backs against the bed.

"I assume we'll be living in the catacombs, right Erik?" Christine asked after the silence had enclosed in around them, and she had regained her composer.

Erik kept his gaze on the ceiling, "Then you'd assume right." His voice was a bit shaky, as if he was uneasy about something. Christine picked up on this.

She turned on her side, and faced him, letting her hair spread over the covers of the mattress. "I really don't mind living there; it's where we made our music together..."

Erik turned his head, deeply touched. "Oh, Christine..."

Christine shook her head and gave him a soft smile. "I mean, it might be a little dreary for the children, but we can always fix that."

Erik's heart melted as he took her hand and entwined his gloved fingers with hers. He then repositioned himself on his side, so that he was staring perfectly at Christine. "You still want children?"

"No matter what the outcome." She drew his hand out in front of her face and carefully removed the leather glove with tender love. "Why do you still wear these?"

"My touch is as cold as ice..."

"I find it very warm and inviting." She cooed as she used his now bare flesh to caress her left cheek. She closed her eyes and sighed happily at the closeness of the two.

Erik took this opportunity to slowly cuddle closer to her body.

"Erik..." She breathed.

"Yes, my angel?"

"Kiss me?"

Erik's eyes widened as he became aware of his surroundings. He soon noticed the heated feeling in his lower region as well and bolted upright.

Christine opened her eyes and sat up, draping her arms around Erik's neck. "What's wrong, my love?"

"N-nothing..." He suddenly felt like he was a small child again, twisting napkins around his tiny fingers.

"Oh..." Her voice was strongly flavored with disappointment. "...take me to our home, Erik."

"What...?"

Oh god, what was she _doing_ to him?

"Please," she pleaded, "take me there."

You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Christine." Erik said, groaning inwardly. He was having more issues with self control than he had ever thought himself capable of, and all of his previous restraints were broken down when he heard Christine's voice, loud and clear.

"I'm yours, Erik..." she whispered gently in his ear, sending a shiver across his flesh.

Who was seducing who here?

'_What is he doing to me? I've never felt this way with Raoul...' _She blushed to herself as Erik trembled reaching for the lever that opened the mirror. As the mirror was finally opened, an anxious Christine threw herself off the bed, to Erik and captured his lips in a passionate kiss. Erik, still quite bashful by all of this, helped Christine to wrap her legs around his waist creating a beautiful tension between the pair's nether regions. Christine ran her long, graceful fingers through his hair and began feeling a fire stir deep inside of her which only confirmed her thoughts on Raoul.

Christine spoke to her Angel in between kisses. "I… love...you...so...much…"

Erik slowly moved down to Christine's neck. "Never as much as I love you..." He kissed every inch of her soft neck. His pride boosted by every one of her delicate whimpers and even more when her next words were spoken.

"I've past the point of no...re...turn..."

Erik ginned and flipped Christine carefully into bridal style as he began to walk down the passageway to his home. "You are certainly a siren, my angel..."

Somewhere along the journey Christine noticed that Erik was not paying any attention to the road in front of them and was far more interested in kissing her. Christine pulled back slowly. "You...oh god, Erik...Erik...you know where we're going, don't you?"

"Of course I do..." He murmured lowly as he trailed imitate kisses across her collar bone.

"That's it!" Christine removed one of her hands from around Erik's neck and before he had time to protest, through his mask to the side. Christine then continued to place loving pecks all over his marred skin. Erik growled hungrily and returned her mouth to his lips and kissed her deeply, never remembering feeling quite this blissful, ever. Christine slightly parted her rose-colored lips, allowing Erik entrance as his tongue massaged every corner of her mouth. Oh heaven, the sounds she produced! It was enough to drive him mad with love, if that is even possible; for we all know Erik was 'mad with love' to begin with.

Soon they had reached the trap door, where Erik dropped in with no warning. Christine shrieked with surprise as Erik placed a forefinger to her mouth. "Shhh... It's all right, I have you." Before long, Christine noticed they were in the gondola. She sat in back of him silently, eagerly waiting what was to lie ahead. Soon, Christine found herself kissing Erik's neck with unbridled lust. Erik, taken by surprise, was finding it very difficult to stir such a heavy boat, and because if that, the vessel became unbalanced and caused the two to plummet into the mist.

"Erik! Erik!" Christine cried, or rather, laughed, Erik couldn't quite tell. She swam over to him and once again wrapped her arms around his neck. "Well, haven't we been here before?"

"You little vixen! _Last time_ was an accident!" Erik chuckled, giving the tip of her nose a light kiss.

"No, no, Erik! Last time I pushed you in!" Her face broke into a wide smile, "and this time, I accidentally pushed you in. Who knew I had such power over you..."

"And so, we must make the conclusion that you enjoy seeing me wet."

"Oh, very much so..." she agreed, producing what sounded like little purrs.

With that Erik dove swiftly under the water and came back up holding the gondola pole. Climbing aboard the boat, he put the pole safely into the interior and hoisted himself into it. He offered Christine a hand, and after she made a foolhardy attempt to pull him back in, he lifted her whole body with one hand and brought her up close to him.

"I don't think I'll ever be dry again." Erik sighed, grasping the pole and pushing it back and forth so that the water lapped over it.

Christine giggled and then looked at her Angel wide eyed as she noticed his chest through the soaked-through white shirt. She drew in her breath as she saw his graceful but masculine muscles expanding and contracting with ever breath he took, and his breathing seemed to be increasingly sped up as her eyes raked his body. She wrapped her hands around Erik's waist as he gracefully poled them to the shore. Erik was the first to get out, and after helping Christine out he twirled his now soaking cloak to the ground. Oh, how she loved that cloak twirl. It was enough to make a girl go weak in the knees. Shyly, yet trying her best to be seductive, Christine slowly began to untie her robe.

"God, are you woman always like this?" Erik growled, twirling her in the air and then placing her down.

"Am I too slow for you, Monsieur Opera Ghost?" She joked, waving her forefinger in front of him. "Well, you'll just have to be patient."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

Then perhaps you would like to... undress me?" _'I...I can't believe I just asked him to...oh god, I'm not acting in the way of my faith, am I? Such actions would be frown upon.' _Christine reddened as she watched Erik's fingers play around with her ties.

"You're such a gentleman, Erik; I give you permission to remove my robe..."

After doing so, Erik grabbed her hand to lead her to her bedroom, which was soon to be their bedroom. Somehow as they walked in the candles were already lit, making the atmosphere far more romantic as the light seemed to make each other glow, as if they were some heavenly being. Erik turned to Christine and kissed her, gently forcing her to fall back onto the bed. He would make sure that Christine wasn't in any pain. If she was, it would kill him. Slowly Erik began to ease Christine's chemise over her head, and turned to drop it to the floor. He looked down at her corset (she had actually decided to put it on this time) and gently flipped her over to her backside where he got a beautiful view of her bottom while he was unlacing the corset.

"Why is it you choose to where this now?" Erik was having difficulty getting the corset off in his hurry, and he growled in frustration as he stumbled on the last lace.

She blushed at his determination, trying to assist him in removing the corset.

Finally freeing Christine from the cursed contraption, he then slid her panties down and became even more aroused at the sight of his Angel fully unclothed beneath him.

Christine became aware of how vulnerable she was as she bashfully hid herself beneath the sheets. Erik shook his head. "No, I want to see you." He then pushed the blanket off of her as he fully took in the splendor that was her body. Erik lowered his face to her perfect breasts and took one rosy nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip as Christine arched her back against him.

Not wanting to feel vulnerable any longer, Christine took over and straddled her husband-to-be while unbuttoning his shirt. She giggled as she heard Erik groan and gasped as the heat consumed her. The movement of her hips was intoxicating him. Finally she was able to remove Erik's shirt and she ran her hands over his beautifully toned chest. Christine brought her head down to his body and kissed her way up to his neck and then returned her mouth to his lips. Their lips never parted as they tried desperately to remove the only piece of clothing which prevented their passion...their music of the night.

As Erik's trousers hit the floor, Christine felt need consume her for the first time in her life. She blushed again as she gazed upon his manhood and realized that he was not only her Angel but a man, a glorious man at that. She also felt undeniable love coursing through her veins as she looked into his eyes. Erik looked back into them with lust and desire for her. She was his now and his alone. He would gladly lay his life on the line for her that he knew. That past was no longer an issue, and he adored the fact that Christine was still so bashful in his naked presence.

**Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime...**

And suddenly, realization hit him. Erik was not the first man Christine had made love to. He was still a virgin, not her. Raoul had had this divine pleasure before he ever could, and that upset him, _angered_ him, to such a far extent.

"Erik! Please!" Christine breathed, for Erik had been touching her in the most private of places while he was thinking this, and her passion was threatening to take her life if something was not done soon.

'_Don't ruin this for yourself, you fool! Look at her! The Victome has never had the affect I have on her, and that is pleasure in itself!' _So, with better judgment, Erik pushed aside all thoughts and continued.

'_She belongs to me...' _

Christine gasped once again as his feather-like touches from his masterfully musical hands once again touched her. "Oh, Erik! I want you! I _need_ you!"

Erik's ego was about to soar off the charts...

"Erik, my Angel… master... love… please!" Christine cried as he positioned his manhood near her opening, but knew he'd need one final push. She whimpered again as she opened her mouth and screamed. "Erik! Oh my Erik! I love you! I love you Erik! Please! Lord, I love you, Erik! I love you with all the love my heart and soul can possess!"

Erik's heart softened at her confession, and his need for her body to be his overcame any objections in his mind. And suddenly, they were one.

Christine cried out in both pain and pleasure. Erik held her as he knew she must be going through pain. A minute later Christine realized it was no longer painful and she begged him to move against her, with her. And as they both took out their passionate love on the others body, they both felt as if they had been to heaven and back. Both panted their lover's name and whispered words of love before surrendering to the welcoming darkness.

Xxxxxxx

Christine: I...I did it...

Erik: (wide eyed)...

Christine: It's not the last chapter, my loyal reviewers, so don't worry! Ummm...I will admit this...I LOVE the fact that the main character's name is Christine. Absolutely... (Blushes) love it...

Erik: (grins) Then perhaps we can reenact it..."

Christine: ... (Faints)

Erik: (catches the author, holding her bridal style) Review, my friends! I advise you to comply; my instructions should be clear-

Penny: You wouldn't want him dropping another chandelier...

Erik: ...


	22. The Way Things Should've Ended

**A/N**: This will be the last chapter of _Rose Rouge_. I…I don't know what to say. This fic was my most successful. All thanks to you guys! I love you all!

**Dedication: **To every single reviewer (I'll most likely post a note afterwards, thanking you in more detail)

**Final Chapter: The Way Things Should've Ended…**

One year seemed to pass by all too quickly. But for Christine and Erik, it was nothing but bliss. Pure bliss. After all, the lovers were now wed. Surprisingly, many people made sure that they were present for the event.

_Meg tugged on Christine's sleeve. "He's not going to make you wear a black wedding gown, is he?" She asked innocently. Curiosity filled her eyes. _

"_Meg, you're being silly!" _

One year also contained Erik's birthday. Now, our phantom was painfully used to celebrating his birth alone. In fact, he loathed the day. It held too many painful memories.

However, when he was out collecting his usual 20 thousand francs, Christine concocted a plan.

"_Happy Birthday, Erik!" Christine giggled, making her husband drop the filled envelope to the ground, in shock. She rushed over to him, swung her arms lightly around his neck and brushed his right cheek lightly with her lips. _

"_Happy Birthday, O.G." Firimin and Andre held out their gifts with shaking hands. _

"_Why are we here again, my fellow?" Firmin whispered to his partner, a sweat drop dripping slowly down the side of his face._

"_The girl invited us…"_

"_I made a noose!" Raoul replied, wiping his brow in triumph. "God, was that thing frustrating to deal with. Wasn't it Philippe?" _

_Philppe just cupped his cheek in his hand and sighed. "Your present, Monsieur." He held the package out hastily. Meg shook her head and went to pass it to Erik. _

Why was Raoul invited? Why was he playing with a Punjab lasso? Christine just answered Erik with a simple, 'he invited himself' remark.

Then there was the other time. Erik was sitting comfortably in his desk chair, writing the slightly threatening- but not too much- letters to the managers.

"_There's no shame in it, my dear."_

"_Erik, you know I do not support these things. I thought you were going to retire from this silly game." Christine spoke in a stern voice, waving a forefinger in front of him. "I don't want to give you another lecture!"_

"_I just want to wish them good luck in tonight's performance!" Erik muttered defensively._

"_Your behavior still frightens them!" Christine strolled over and took a seat next to Erik on the bench. She stared at the yellow piece of parchment, to the quill, and then to the maroon colored ink._

"_. . . Christine?" he asked, studying her facial expression with interest._

"_Oh, just give me it!" she playfully snapped, grabbing the writing utensil firmly and then scratching furiously on the faded yellow surface._

_Richard Firmin's blood drained from his face, when reading the next letter: _

Our Dear Managers,

I believe you know what is coming. You should be quite accustomed to it by now. I have written this letter to remind you that that my salary is to be paid. Please put 20 thousand francs into the envelope attached and give it to Madame Giry. Oh, and raise her salary as well. She deserves it. If these demands are ignored, there will be a misfortunate…worst than death!

Fondly,

M. and **Mme**. O.G.'

_The ballet instructor took it with a laugh, nodded to Firmin and then turned on her heel, out the office._

Those were only a few happy moments that had occurred during the last 365 days of their marriage.

Now Erik was pacing back and forth outside the bedroom door.

"You really should go in there. She wants you in there!" Meg said, trying to consol him. She watched as he collapsed into the chair next to her. Erik didn't say a word. He swallowed past the small lump in his throat and gazed at the brass door knob. Erik was deathly afraid of what was taking place behind it.

"It won't be as bad as you think; you're just getting yourself worked up." Meg tried again to comfort him. She placed a hand instinctively on his shoulder, only for Erik to flinch and shrug it off. She let a deep sigh escape her mouth. Why bother anymore? He wasn't going in! It just annoyed her now. It annoyed her beyond reason!

"Fine Erik! Stay out here and be afraid! You're only going to have to face it later!" She cried out in aggravation.

Erik turned to Meg. She was right. Sooner or later, he'd have to see his child. He slumped further into his chair. He hated when other people were right. Slowly, hastily, Erik got up onto his feet and reluctantly went to open the door. His mind screamed not to enter, but his conscious thought differently. Carefully, Erik turned the knob, listening to the door creak as he walked inside.

The first thing Erik heard was the midwife.

"That's right, Madame…just a little more. That's it! You're doing fine," she encouraged Christine. The pillow resting underneath her head was drenched with sweat. Little wisps of brown hair stuck nicely to her forehead. Christine screamed out in agony as she pushed harder. Erik wasn't even sure if she had noticed his presence. Suddenly, Christine grasped his hand tightly and squeezed it, giving him a weak smile before her next cry of pain.

"We're almost through. One more push, my lady. Then it'd all be over!"

There was another scream, a soft whine, and then everything was silent. Erik's hand was sore under Christine's fierce hold, but that didn't matter to him. He kissed her damp head lovingly and went to fetch a towel. As he did so, the midwife took the baby and wiped off the body fluids that were covering its flesh. Erik's heart was pounding furiously inside his chest.

"…my…" the woman said, placing the infant gently into the cradle.

"Wha…what is it?" Christine breathed, trying to position herself upright in the bed. "What's wrong?"

The midwife looked at her, then cooed, "Oh, nothing to worry about, child. Your daughter just has very interesting eyes. She should be crying, however." She peaked in over the cradle edge and looked at the baby. "Very interesting eyes, indeed…"

"Our…daughter?" Erik asked, gradually becoming more and more relieved. "Our perfectly normal daughter?"

"If you mean no deformities and such, than yes, the girl is normal." The midwife replied, understanding his worries.

Then, the baby burst into a cry, but not an unbearable cry. It was somewhat soothing, enjoyable even. Erik smirked to himself, and walked over to the cradle.

Christine closed her eyes and listened to her little girl, in a trance-like state. "Let me see her," she whispered happily.

Erik outstretched his arms and picked up the baby tenderly.

"Oh, careful of her head. Make sure it's supported!" The midwife informed.

"Yes, thank you." Erik placed a hand gently under her head and brought his daughter over to the bedside. "Well, I see what you mean by interesting eyes…"

"Oh my, Erik! They're golden! Is that even natural?" Christine squeaked, groping the air on order to hold her.

"It's different, but they suit her…"

Christine giggled. "They remind me of cat eyes. She'll probably see very well in the dark. . ." She ran a finger down the bride of the little one's nose. "What should we name her, Erik?"

"Whatever name you think is best, my angel."

"Well," Christine paused and looked down at the baby, "I've always loved the name Madeleine . . . but I can see if you'd rather not—"

"After my mother?" Erik blinked.

"Yes. . ." Christine averted his gaze and looked at the midwife, who gave her a nod of approval. "Although you don't think too fondly of her, she's the one who gave birth to you, and for that…I could never be more grateful." She met his turquoise eyes, "Besides," a sheepish smiled formed at the corners of her mouth, "I've always adored the name."

Erik leaned over and caught her lips in a small kiss. "Then Madeleine it is."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Madeleine crawled over to her father, coming onto her knees; she wanted to be picked up. Erik laughed and placed her on his lap with a thump.

"Do you want to know the notes of the organ, Madeleine? Your father can teach you, if you'd like." Erik asked, patting her belly.

Madeleine made a tiny hiccup, and then looked down at the keys. She pointed to one, and then lightly pushed it. She jumped a bit at the sound that came out.

"That would be E. Can you figure out where F is?"

Madeleine nodded and touched another key. This time, she expected its sound.

"Very good, my dear! We're going to be quite the little genius when we get older, aren't we?"

Madeleine smiled up at him and then brought her attention back to the organ. She moved her little fingers over the instrument, instantly learning to play a scale.

"And my mother was worried about me! 3 months old, most likely to master my organ by 4 months!" Erik laughed a second time and brought her into the air. Madeleine giggled and waved her arms to the side, acting like a _very_ chipper bird.

"Christine, our daughter learned to play a scale today." Erik said, bringing her over to the kitchen area and seating her in a height chair that Erik had built himself.

"Well, well, Erik. I'd be worried. She might turn out smarter than her father." Christine chuckled, winking at him.

"Oh, I don't know about that." He replied coming up behind Christine and wrapping his arms around her petite waist. He rested his chin on her left shoulder and kissed her neck. "My angel. . ."

"Oh, Erik…" She sighed, enjoying his protective embrace. She sank into him like a rag doll and then looked at Madeleine. "I love you…"

Erik looked down at her, then to their beautiful little girl, "I love you too, Christine." Then, he captured her lips in a deep kiss.

**FIN!**

The ending was kind of corny, but I hope you all liked my story! I…I feel like crying. Seriously. I'm going to miss it so much. No more updates, no more reviews…oh, PLEASE REVIEW! **My goal for this story is 300 reviews! Please make that possible! I'm so close, yet...so far.** No more Erik…

Erik: (kisses me) My angel, I'm still here…

Thank goodness… Anyway, please tell me how you liked it!

-Christine


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